Her ears were sharper than his, and she had heard the dull rattle of the door handle.
“I don’t know what to take,” she said, in a weary voice; “I suppose it will not be better before morning.”
“I have taken the brandy and soda into the library, sir,” said Preenham. “Would you like it brought up here?”
“To be sure,” he cried. “The very thing for your headache. Bring it up, Preenham.”
“You madman!” cried Katrine, angrily. “You take advantage of my weakness for you. Another moment, and we should have been discovered. No, no; keep away.”
“Miss is as good as a mile.”
“You grow more reckless, every day. We must be careful.”
“Careful! I’m sick of being careful.”
“Hush!”
The butler entered with a tray and the brandy and soda.