“Ban, you mustn’t go,” she said with a changed tone.
“Not go? To Miss Camilla? There’s nothing—”
“I’ll go.”
“You!”
“Why not? If she’s seriously ill, she needs a woman, not a man with her.”
“But—but, Io, you don’t even like her.”
“Heaven give you understanding, Ban,” she retorted with a bewitching pretext of enforced patience. “She’s a woman, and she was good to me in my trouble. And if that weren’t enough, she’s your friend whom you love.”
“I oughtn’t to let you,” he hesitated.
“You’ve got to let me. I’d go, anyway. Get Esther back. She must help me pack. Get me a drawing-room if you can. If not, I’ll take your berth.”
“You’re going to leave to-night?”