"Well," he said, "and what didn't I tell you?"
"You didn't tell me how it would end."
He was silent.
"Is that what you told father?"
"Hasn't he said anything?"
"He hasn't said a word. And you went away without saying anything."
"There isn't much to say that you don't know——"
"I know why she was ill. You told me. But I don't know why she's worse. She was better. She was quite well. She was running about doing things and looking so pretty—only the other day. And look at her now."
"It's like that," said Rowcliffe. "It comes and goes."
He said it quietly. But the blood rose into his face and forehead in a painful flush.