"Shall we sit out, Dr. Anstice?" He thought Iris looked at him rather strangely. "I ... I am rather tired—and hot—but still——"
"Let us sit out by all means, Miss Wayne. Shall we go into the conservatory? It is quite cool there—and quiet."
She agreed at once; and two minutes later he found her a seat in a corner beneath a big overshadowing palm.
Now that she was beside him he felt his self-control failing him. She was so pretty in her white gown with the pearls on her neck and the delicate moonstones dangling in her little ears....
"Dr. Anstice"—it was the girl who broke the silence—"do you know you have treated us very badly of late? You have never been near us for weeks, and our tennis match has not been decided after all!"
"I know I've behaved disgracefully"—his voice shook, and she half regretted her impulsive words—"but—well, I'm not exactly a free agent, Miss Wayne."
"No, I suppose a doctor rarely is," she answered thoughtfully; and he did not correct her misapprehension of his meaning.
"But I don't want you to think me ungrateful for your kindness." So much, at least, he might say. "If I have appeared discourteous, please believe that in my heart I have always fully appreciated your goodness—and that of your father."
She said nothing for a moment, looking down at her satin slippers absently; and he did not attempt to interrupt her reverie.
Then, with rather startling irrelevance, she said slowly: