"Where that—that doctor lives——"
"Yes. I am going to New York with him, Lord Marque."
He stood as though stunned for a moment; then set his teeth, clenched his hands, and pulled himself together.
"I think I understand," he said quietly. "And—I wish you—happiness."
She stretched out her hand to him above the heliotrope.
"I—wish it—to you——" suddenly her voice broke; again her teeth caught at her underlip like a child who struggles with emotion. "You—don't understand," she said. "Wait a little while before you—come to any—unhappy—conclusions."
After a moment she made a slight effort to disengage her hand—another—then turned in her chair and dropped her head on the table, her right hand still remaining in his. Presently he released it; and she placed both hands on the edge of the table and her forehead upon them.
"I am coming in," he said.
She straightened up swiftly at his words.
"Please don't!" she said in a startled voice, still tremulous.