"Yes—?" she queried, dully.
"He has been very ill. Ayeshi has come on ahead to prepare quarters for him."
She was looking down at her hands. He could see how she fought to control their trembling.
"If only we could have put him up—but we can't—father wouldn't—oh, it is terrible to be so helpless."
"I told Ayeshi to bring him to my bungalow. I will let you know how he is—and perhaps, later on, you could help. I know what a fine little nurse you are——"
"You are very, very good, Owen——"
"I would be glad to do anything for him," he answered, without significance. Then chancing to look up, he found that Sigrid Fersen's eyes were fixed on him, and guessed that she had heard, or had wanted to hear badly. For an instant, on behalf of Anne, he hated her again, and the next he warmed towards her. She met his half-resentful stare as frankly.
"I am so thankful he is safe," she said.
Mrs. Compton thereupon chimed in.
"If anything happened to Major Tristram, I should die of a broken heart," she said, "—even if Archie divorced me for it."