There was little sleep for either Wyndham or Honor that night.
The girl persuaded Evelyn to go early to bed, merely telling her that as Theo was restless she would have to sit up with him for a while; and Evelyn, secretly relieved at not being asked to do the sitting up herself, deposited a light kiss on her husband's hair and departed with a pretty air of meekness that brought a smile to Honor's lips.
She had felt mildly happy and oppressively good all day. The tea-party had helped to lighten the hushed atmosphere of the house; and her last waking thought was of George Rivers' deep-toned voice and frankly admiring eyes. She decided that he might "do" in place of Harry Denvil, who must naturally be forgotten as soon as possible; because it was so uncomfortable to think of people who were dead.
Desmond's temperature rose rapidly; and the two, who could not bear to leave his side, divided the night watches between them. Amar Singh, his chin between his knees, crouched dog-like on the mat outside the door, presenting himself, from time to time, with such dumb yearning in his eyes that Honor devised small services for him in pure tenderness of heart.
Paul took a couple of hours' rest at midnight, on the condition that Honor should do the same towards morning; and since she was obviously reluctant when the unwelcome hour arrived, he smilingly conducted her in person to the threshold of her room.
"Good-night to you,—Miss Meredith! Or should it be good-morning?" he said lightly, in the hope of chasing the strained look from her face.
"Good-morning, for preference," she retorted, with an attempt at a laugh. "You can take a horse to the water, but you can't make him drink! I shan't sleep even for five minutes."
"You think so; but Nature will probably have her way with you all the same."