She went down to breakfast with shaking limbs, scarce able to hold up her head as she sat through the meal. Harvey ran his eye over the papers, but said nothing, and kept looking anxiously at her. She could not touch food; on rising from table she felt a giddiness which obliged her to hold the chair for support. At her husband's beckoning she followed him into the library.
'Hadn't you better go back to bed?'
'I shall lie down a little. But perhaps if I could get out——'
'No, that you won't. And if you feel no better by afternoon I shall send for the doctor.'
'You see what the papers say——?'
'Yes.'
'Wouldn't it be graceful to own that you are surprised?'
'We'll talk about that when you look less like a corpse. Would you like me to send any message to Mrs. Carnaby?'
Alma shook her head.
'I'll write—today or tomorrow—there's no hurry——'