"You poor man! I am quite heavy."
"Pooh! A hundred and twenty-five at the outside. Do you think I'm a weakling?"
"Please, please!" she cried. "You look so—so furious. I know you are very, very strong,—but so am I. Why should I expect you to carry me all that distance when—"
"But, good Lord," he blurted out, "I would have loved to do it. I can't imagine anything more—I—I—" He broke off in confusion.
She smiled divinely. "Alas, it is too late now. But—" she went on gaily, "you may yet have the pleasure of carrying me downstairs, Mr. Barnes. Will that appease your wrath?"
He flushed. "I'm sorry I—"
"See," she said, "it is nicely bandaged,—and if you could see through the bandages you would find it dreadfully swollen. That nice Miss Thackeray doctored me. What a quaint person she is."
His brow clouded once more. "I hope you will feel able to leave this place to-morrow, Countess. We must get away almost immediately."
"Ah, you have been listening to O'Dowd, I see."
"Yes. He tells me it will be dangerous to—"