He sat down beside her and started to take her in his arms, but she drew away from him.
“Why, Faustina——”
“I’m—oh, I’m just a bit nervous, Roger.”
“There seemed to be something troubling you yesterday, and there certainly is to-day,” he said. “Can’t you confide in me, Faustina? Is there anything wrong—anything I can do to help?”
“Nothing you can do—to help,” she said.
“Then there is something wrong?”
“Don’t ask me, please, Roger. I’m nervous, worried. Just let me rest until to-night—I’ll try to be all right then. Certainly I’ll go to the ball with Howard—and expect you later. And now you’ll go, won’t you, Roger? I must lie down—and rest.”
The puzzled Verbeck walked slowly to the door, Faustina following him. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She did not return the caress, and she seemed on the verge of tears.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly.
“You tell me not to worry.”