“But, my dear girl!... What things? I assure you it’s pure fancy! Look here,” he said resolutely, “tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself this past week, and I’ll bet I can tell you what’s the matter with you! In the first place, have you had proper meals?”
“All I wanted, thank you.”
“That means eggs, I expect. You haven’t a headache, have you?”
“Only quite a slight one. No, please don’t brush my hair; if you wouldn’t mind getting me a drink of water instead——”
“But,” said Cosimo presently, bending solicitously over her with the water he had fetched, “I used to be able to stroke your headaches away. Do let me try——”
“No, thank you so awfully much, Cosimo—I don’t think it would do this one any good—and I really think you ought to be going now. I shall go to bed.”
“Is it made?”
“I don’t know. Would you mind giving me a hand up? I expect I shall be all right again in the morning——”
He helped her weary but enduring form to the curtained corner where the bed lay. Then he looked anxiously at her. He stood irresolute.
“I’ll put you a jug of water by your side, shall I?”