"Henry? Oh Lord, no."
"You're lying. I'll go to him and see——"
She made a rush for the window. He sprang after her and caught her. She struggled in his arms.
"Jinny, you little fool. There's nothing—nothing——He's bursting with health."
"What did you mean, then?"
"I meant—supposing he were ill——"
"You meant to frighten me?"
She sat down and he saw her fighting for her breath. He knelt beside her and took her in his arms, murmuring inarticulate things in his terror. At his touch she turned to him and kissed him.
"Hugh, dear," she said, "don't frighten me again. It's not necessary."
All that week, and for many weeks, she busied herself with the child and with the house. It was as if she were trying, passionately, to make up for some brief disloyalty, some lapse of tenderness.