He made room for her, and she sank down beside him, leaning her head against the high back of the settle and gazing unwinkingly into the fire. She was conscious now that this man was overflowing with tenderness towards her, but she would not look him in the face yet.
"How did you find out about the rations to the women?" he enquired presently.
Daphne told him.
"But you mustn't blame Jim Carthew," she said in conclusion. "He simply had to tell me."
"Where did you see him?"
"Last week, in Algiers. In fact, he brought me home; but I made him promise not to tell you I was in London. He is a good sort!" she added irrelevantly.
"In what way?" asked her husband curiously.
Daphne turned and surveyed him.
"Would you be angry if I told you—jealous, I mean?"
"What right have I to be angry or jealous?" said Juggernaut simply. "In what way," he repeated, "has Carthew been showing that he is a good sort?"