For a moment the constraint was painful. Meryl had grown as white as the tablecloth, and Mr. Pym looked thoroughly worried. Diana, however, had quickly recovered herself, and was now the most composed of any. She gave a little sniff and glanced defiantly at van Hert. His eyes roved round the table and finally fixed themselves upon hers. She did not waver, but looked steadily back at him. He gave a self-conscious, constrained laugh. "I presume you had your reasons?" he said.
She narrowed her eyes a little as she replied with a directness probably he alone understood, "Yes, I suppose I had. It was yesterday, Tuesday. Tuesday is often a queer day with me."
And he knew she was referring to their conversation during the morning's ride.
Then Meryl got up to relieve the tension, and because she began to feel a little uncertain of herself.
"Di often has queer days, but they have nothing to do with your feverishness, William. Jackson had better go back with you, and we will telephone Dr. Smythe to look in and see how you are." She went away to order the motor, and van Hert seized an opportunity to speak to Diana unheard.
"I know what you are alluding to," he said, gravely. "We cannot very well leave it like this. Will you ride the same way to-morrow?"
"But if you have fever?" hesitatingly.
"In the war I fought all day long with fever on me. Surely I can ride! You will be there?"
"Yes."
When van Hert arrived at the meeting-place next morning, he wore an overcoat and looked as if he ought to be in bed, and Diana's heart smote her. But she comforted herself with the thought that his fever was very much of the mind, and her medicine, if drastic, might still do him more good than any physician's.