"Oh, yes," she said, then added "very."
They paused. "Don't let me keep you if you have business," she suggested.
"I haven't," he answered.
He thought that never in his life had he seen her look so ill, but doubted how to speak of it.
"You got all over your typhoid, of course," was the way he put it.
"Oh, yes, completely." She read him as usual, and saw what was in his mind, that her appearance had shocked him.
"Oh, don't look at me that way, Mason," she exclaimed suddenly; "I know I've gone off a lot, but don't rub it in."
"You're nothing of the sort. You are a bit fagged out, that's all."
"Yes," she said, "a bit fagged. Besides, I'm a staid, settled-down old thing—and you, perhaps you're married by this time. Are you?"
"No."