He rapped on the door, but so timorously that nothing came of it. His second effort was productive. He heard Miss Thackeray say "good gracious," and, after a moment, Miss Cameron's subdued: "What is it?"
"May I come in?" he inquired, rather ashamed of his vigour. "It's only Barnes."
"Come in," was her lively response. "It was awfully good of you, Miss Thackeray, to let me hear your lines. I think you will be a great success in the part."
"Thanks," said Miss Thackeray drily. "I'll come in again and let you hear me in the third act." She went out, mumbling her lines as she passed Barnes without seeing him.
"Forgive me for not arising, Mr. Barnes," said Royalty, a wry little smile on her lips. "I fear I twisted it more severely than I thought at first. It is really quite painful."
"Your ankle?" he cried in surprise. "When and how did it happen? I'm sorry, awfully sorry."
"It happened last night, just as we were crossing the ditch in front—"
"Last night? Why didn't you tell me? Don't you know that it's wrong to walk with a sprained ankle? Don't—"
"Don't be angry with me," she pleaded. "You could not have done anything."
"Couldn't I, though? I certainly could have carried you the rest of the way,—and upstairs." He was conscious of a strange exasperation. He felt as though he had been deliberately cheated out of something.