“I had to post some papers to Ames,” he said; “and though I had told Thomas I would ring for him to take them, the morning was so bright and clear that I fancied I should like the walk. And really it was most refreshing.”
“I can fancy you needed refreshment,” Mrs. Gaston said, “if, as I don’t doubt, you had been at work all night.”
Mr. Gaston made no response. He was helping himself from a dish offered by a servant at the moment, and seemed disposed to let the matter drop; but Margaret, urged by an irresistible impulse, arrested his eye and said quickly:
“Had you?”
“Had I what, Miss Trevennon?”
“Had you been at work all night?”
“Pretty much, I believe; but why do you look so tragic? I am not in delicate health, that the lack of a little sleep should entail serious consequences.”
“‘Pleasure the way you like it’!” said Mrs. Gaston. “Louis really likes that sort of thing; he deserves no credit for it. I used to apprehend that I should find myself brother-in-law-less very shortly in consequence of those habits, but he thrives on them; he’s the healthiest person I know. Don’t waste your sympathy on him, Margaret; keep it all for me. It isn’t those who endure hardships, but those who can’t endure them that should be pitied.”