"I shall stay here, if you phone, until Mr. Fentriss comes."
Constance swayed, irresolute, uncertain on her feet. "How far has this gone?" she muttered.
Scott rallied his defences. "You're not to think that this is just a casual, cheap flirtation," he said. "If I could make you understand how deeply and honestly I love Pat——"
"Honestly!" echoed Constance with scorn.
"I won't split words with you. And for myself I've no excuses to make. I ought to have held myself better in hand. But as for this sort of thing—my kissing Pat—it's the first time and it will be——"
"Oh, piffle!" Pat's reckless voice broke in. "Tell her the truth, Cary."
Constance looked from one to the other. Her lips quivered, curled down at the corners like a grieved baby's. She began to sob in short, quick, strangled catches of the breath. Suddenly a dreadful look convulsed her face. She pressed her hands down upon her abdomen.
"Oh!" she cried. "Ah-h-h-h. The pain! Pat! I'm——"
Scott jumped to catch her, barely in time to break the fall. He eased her into the chair. Pat was beside him instantly.