"It wasn't remorse," she said.
"It's awfully good of you," said Barnaby. "But why—but why——" There was a faint eagerness in his puzzled voice.
"Perhaps," she said bravely, "it was the dramatic instinct. How could a poor actress forget all her traditions? How could she help rising to her part? Don't talk.... Lie quiet and laugh at me all you want."
*****
One day Lady Henrietta came into the room with a budget of letters and all she could rake of gossip.
"You two have been shut up so long," she said, "I believe you have both forgotten there is such a thing as an outside world. Why don't you ask who has been inquiring for you?"
"Who has been inquiring for me?" said Barnaby.
He was propped high in his pillows, and was looking like himself. In the afternoon he was to dress and sit in a chair and read the paper.
"Everybody," she said. "Poor Rackham has been two or three times a day when you were bad. Of course it was his horse that did the mischief. He would not be satisfied without seeing Susan——"
"Did you see him?" asked Barnaby. There was something a little odd in his intonation.