He took her hand for a moment and then turned back to Aunt Anne, who was now pouring out tea at a little table by the fire.
Martin Warlock, as his father moved away, came across to her, She had known that he would do that as though something had been arranged between them. When he came to her, however, he stood there before her and had nothing to say. She also had nothing to say. His eyes searched her face, then he broke out abruptly.
"Are you better?"
"I'm all right," she answered him brusquely. "Please don't say anything about yesterday. It was an idiotic thing to do."
"That's what I came about to-day—to see how you were," he answered her, his eyes laughing at her. "I should never have dreamed of coming otherwise, you know. I saw you in chapel this morning so I guessed you were all right, but it seemed such bad luck fainting right off the minute you got here."
"I've never fainted in my life before," she answered.
"No, you don't look the sort of girl who'd faint. But I suppose you've had a rotten time with your father and all."
His eyes still searched for hers. She determined that she would not look at him; her heart was beating strangely and, although she did not look, she could in some sub-conscious way see the rough toss of his hair against his forehead; she could smell the stuff of his coat. But she would not look up.
"You're going to live here, aren't you?"
"Yes," she said.