“This is clam broth. I think you can keep it down. Sip it slowly. There are toasted crackers, too——”
He placed the tray on her knees.
“Now,” he said, encouragingly, “be a sport!”
“I’ll try.”
The process of absorption was a slow one. She was very pale, and there were dark smears under her eyes. Her bobbed chestnut hair accented the slender purity of face and neck. Her hands seemed plump, but the bath-robe sleeve revealed a wrist and fore-arm much too thin.
“How does it feel?” he inquired, when the cup was empty.
Eris flushed. He saw that it embarrassed her to discuss bodily ills with him. Memory of her morning sickness deepened the painful tint in her cheeks:
“I don’t know—know what to say to you,—I am so ashamed,” she faltered.
“Eris!” he interrupted sharply.
She looked up, startled, her grey eyes brilliant with unshed tears, and saw the boyish grin on his face.