“It’s such an unpleasant afternoon that I am going to get you a taxi.”
The eyes he lifted to hers seemed to have scarcely a spark of life in them. “Why—a taxi?” he asked dully.
“To take you to the House.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going there again.”
“Oh, but you are,” she said quickly. “Just once more—to please me.”
The eyes that looked at her were those of a man who was near the end of his tether. “But I said good-bye to it yesterday,” he muttered.
Plain sense now told her that all must depend on the imperious exercise of her own strong will. She left the room, to return almost at once with his coat and hat. “Ferris has gone for a taxi,” she said.
“No, no,” he said wearily, “I don’t feel up to it to-day.”
“Make the effort, my darling—if only because I ask you.”
Loving her as he did, it was hard to refuse. The spirit was willing, but alas he was no longer in command of himself.