"Oh yes; I was out driving this morning, and afterwards talking to Dr. Burnet, and you know that taketh some energy—I think to have my ball just the same next Saturday. I have remedied myself and not troubled the doctors."
He wished to ask her why she had given the orders about her household that had so shaken him, but could not bring the words to his lips.
Mary coughed a little, and sat up.
"I wanted to ask you something," she said. "I am always begging—am I not?"
He pressed the hand he held between his so fiercely that his heavy rings hurt her, but she continued smiling.
"About Greenwich Palace," she added rather faintly. "I want it for a hospital——"
"I know, I know," he answered remorsefully. "You have spoken of it before. It hath always been the cursed money, but you shall have it if I have to pawn my furniture."
"There are so many old seamen about," murmured Mary—"poor and wounded—and many of them were at La Hogue and helped save us all. I used to see them when I took my airing in Hyde Park, begging—one could not forbear tears. And the hospitals are full. But Greenwich——"
"It shall be," said William. "Give that no more thought. Wren shall draw plans. It shall be as you wish, only get well again, and that shall be my thankoffering."
Looking and smiling at him she sat silent while the firelight flooded her figure with gorgeous light; in that moment's stillness both of them thought of love as a terrible thing.