'Oh yes, I do,' he said, with sudden bitterness—'even unasked. I'm always the same old bore.'
There was silence. His right hand stole towards her left that was lying limply over her knee. Cicely's eyes looking down were occupied with his disabled arm, which, although much improved, was still glad to slip into its sling whenever it was not actively wanted.
But just as he was capturing her, Cicely sprang up.
'I must go and see about Sir John Raine.'
'Cicely—I don't care a brass farthing about Sir John Raine!'
'But having once brought him in, I recommend you to stick to him,' said Cicely, with teasing eyes. 'And don't go advising young women. It's not good for the military. I'm going to take this business in hand.'
And she made for departure, but Marsworth got to the door first, and put his back against it.
'Find me the Turner, Cicely.'
'A man who asks for a thing on false pretences shouldn't have it.'
A silence. Then a meek voice said—