Jill thrust her head round the corner of the door to give a careless invitation.
“I’m going for a trot before dinner. Come along too. It will do you good.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather not.”
“Sulking still? Goodness, I thought you’d have recovered by this time! Bye-bye, my dear. Hope you’ll get it over before dinner.”
She was humming again as she made her way to the door, where, no doubt, Mr Gerard waited to accompany her. The invitation had been a polite matter of form to which an acceptance was not desired. Betty leant her head on the table and lived through a moment of bitterness before the door opened once more, and a voice said—
“If you are not going out, may I come in for a few minutes? Miles has not yet—” Then, in a tone of startled concern, “I beg your pardon! I am interrupting you. You are in trouble?”
Betty straightened herself with a nervous laugh.
“Oh, please come in! It’s nothing. I only felt rather—upset. Something vexed me, but it’s nothing of any importance. Can I do anything for you? Are you expecting Miles? He said he would be home quite early. Were you going out together?”
“Yes, we have some calls to pay, but there’s still half an hour to spare. He will be up to time, I’m sure. Miles is always punctual.”
Mr Gerard seated himself, and looked with concern at Betty’s face, on which the signs of her mental conflict were clearly printed. It was almost the first time that they had been alone together, for tête-à-têtes were of rare occurrence in the doctor’s busy household, and there was a perceptible hesitation on both sides.