"She sounds rather a masculine young lady."
"Oh, no, she isn't! Not a bit! I think you would like her!" A faint smile stole into her eyes. "She was another person who was asked to my wedding and did not come," she added teasingly.
Feathers laughed. "And now I suppose if I stay any longer Chris will be on my track and say that I'm tiring you out."
"Does he say that?" she asked, and a little gleam of eagerness crossed her face. She loved to hear that Chris was anxious about her, or that he made it his business to see she was not overtired.
"As a matter of fact, I think it was the doctor who said it," Feathers answered innocently.
"Oh!" said Marie disappointedly. . . .
She persuaded Dr. Carey to allow her downstairs the following day, and Chris carried her out into the garden and propped her up in a deck chair with cushions and rugs.
"I'm not an invalid really, you know," she said, looking up at him shyly. "I could have walked quite well."
She felt bound to say it, and yet not for worlds would she have forgone being carried in his arms. The distance had seemed all too short. Just for a little she had been quite, quite happy.
Young Atkins was fussing around. He had an enormous bunch of roses in one hand and all the newest magazines in the other. He could not do enough for her. As soon as Chris moved away he dragged a 52 chair up and sat down beside her.