"It concerns you, my dear Theo," Paul answered slowly. "And it is about—your wife."
Desmond frowned sharply, and Wyndham saw the defensive look spring into his eyes.
"Do you mean——? Has there been an accident?"
"No—no; nothing of that sort. I'm sorry to have been so clumsy."
"She is quite safe? Nothing wrong with her?"
"Nothing whatever."
Desmond's mouth took an expression Wyndham knew well. An enemy might have called it pig-headed.
"At that rate, there can be no more to say about her."
And he went leisurely over to the mantelpiece, where he remained, leaning on one elbow, his back towards his companion. Paul saw plainly that he was ill at ease, and cursed the contingency which compelled him to further speech.