“Leo, my child!”
“Well, what is it?” she said; and her voice sounded harsh and strange. “Why did you say that? You knew I should say yes.”
“Yes, yes, of course, my dear; but I did not speak.”
“You did. You said I lied unto you, quite aloud, and”—with a return of her irritable way—“are we never going to have dinner?”
Salis rose from the table where he had been writing, and laid his hand upon his sister’s arm.
“Leo, dear,” he said anxiously; and he gazed in her wild eyes, which softened and looked lovingly in his.
“No,” she said, as she nestled to him and laid her cheek upon his arm; “a bit of a wrench. My shoulder aches, but it will soon be well, dear.”
“Lie back in your chair,” said Salis, as he laid his hand upon her throbbing brow.
“Yes, that’s nice,” she said, smiling as she obeyed. “So cool and refreshing—so cool.”
“Do you feel drowsy? Would you like to have a nap?”