"You look better already," Medora said to Cope. "You'll go back to-morrow a new man."
Her elbow was on the back of the settle and close to his shoulder. His face caught the glow from the fire.
"Oh, I'm all right, I assure you," he said.
"You do look better," observed Carolyn on her own account. "This air is everything. Only a few hours of it——"
"Another bit of wood on the fire, if you please, Carolyn," said her patroness.
"Let me do it," said Cope. He rose quickly and laid on a stick or two. He remained standing on the edge of the glow. He hoped nobody would say again that he was looking rather thin and pale.
"And what is Mr. Lemoyne doing this evening?" presently asked Mrs. Phillips in a dreamy undertone. Her manner was casual and negligent; her voice was low and leisurely. She seemed to place Lemoyne at a distance of many, many leagues. "Rehearsing, I suppose?"
"Yes," replied Cope. "This new play has absorbed him completely."
"He will do well?"
"He always does. He always has."