"Can't go to dinner with you," he said; "Rita won't have it. There's nothing the matter with me, but she made me lie down here, and I've promised to stay here until she returns."
"John, you don't look very well," said Valerie, coming over and seating herself by his side.
"I'm all right, except that I catch cold now and then," he insisted obstinately.
Valerie looked at the pink patches of colour burning in his cheeks. There was a transparency to his skin, too, that troubled her. He was one of those big, blond, blue-eyed fellows whose vivid colour and fine-grained, delicate skin caused physicians to look twice.
He had been reading when Valerie entered; now he laid his ponderous book away, doubled his arms back under his head and looked at Valerie with the placid, bovine friendliness which warmed her heart but always left a slight smile in the corner of her mouth.
"Why do you always smile at me, Valerie?" he asked.
"Because you're good, John, and I like you."
"I know you do. You're a fine woman, Valerie…. So is Rita."
"Rita is a darling."
[Illustration: "'John, you don't look very well,' said Valerie.">[