She had come from the piano, and now sat near him upon a low chair. The silence deepened as she hunted for an opening. Then suddenly she uttered her secret thought:
"I wonder how much you love me, Peter?"
Peter did not in words answer her quiet speculation. He dropped softly beside her on the rug, putting his free hand between hers. There calmly it lay upon her lap as he looked at the fire. The minutes passed till Lady Mary found them intolerable. Her hands closed tightly upon his.
"Peter, dear," she whispered.
Peter turned slowly towards her, startled by the stress of her voice, startled yet more when he found it in her eyes.
"You are in trouble?"
"I have something to tell you," she said.
"About yourself?"
Lady Mary bent her head.