His ear caught the unusual note in her voice, and he was at once concerned with this rather than with her question.
"Why, what is it, Nance—what if I was? Are you seeing another Gratcher?"
"Bernal, quick, now—please! Don't worry me needlessly! Were you at Mrs. Wyeth's to-day?"
Her eyes searched his face. She saw that he was still either puzzled or confused, but this time he answered plainly,
"No—I haven't seen that most sightly cold lady to-day—more's the pity!"
She breathed one quick little sigh—it seemed to him strangely like a sigh of relief.
"I knew you couldn't have been." She laughed a little laugh of secrets. "I was only wondering foolish wonders—you know how Gratchers must be humoured right up to the very moment you puff them away with the deadly laugh."
Together they went in. Bernal stopped to talk with Aunt Bell, who was passing through the hall as they entered; while Nancy, with the manner of one not to be deflected from some set purpose, made straight for Allan's study.
In answer to her ominously crisp little knock, she heard his "Come!" and opened the door.
He sat facing her at his desk, swinging idly from side to side in the revolving chair, through the small space the desk permitted. Upon the blotter before him she saw that he had been drawing interminable squares, oblongs, triangles and circles, joining them to one another in aimless, wandering sequence—his sign of a perturbed mind.