"Where is Lady Mary?" he asked.
She stole to his side, and put her finger on her lips, and lowered her voice.
"She went through the hall—into the study. And she's alone—crying."
"Crying!" said the doctor; and he made a step towards the open door, but Sarah's strong, white hand held him fast.
"Play fair," she said reproachfully; "I told you in confidence. You can't suppose she wants you to see her crying."
"No, no," said the poor doctor, "of course not—of course not."
She closed the doors between the rooms. "Look here, Dr. Blundell, we've always been friends, haven't we, you and me?"
"Ever since I had the honour of ushering you into the world you now adorn," said the doctor, with an ironical bow.
"Then tell me the truth," said Sarah. "Why is she unhappy, to-day of all days?"
The doctor looked uneasily away from her. "Perhaps—the joy of Peter's return has been too much for her," he suggested.