"Yes, he's feeling poorly. That's why he came home."
"Poorly, what's the matter?" Joanna pushed past Nell into the house.
"I dunno, a cold or cough. He told me to bring him some tea and put a hot brick in his bed. Sir Harry ain't in yet."
Joanna marched up the hall to the door of Martin's study. She stopped and listened for a moment, but could hear nothing, except the beating of her own heart. Then, without knocking, she went in. The room was ruddy and dim with firelight, and at first she thought it was empty, but the next minute she saw Martin huddled in an armchair, a tea-tray on a low stool beside him.
"Martin!"
He started up out of a kind of sleep, and blinked at her.
"Jo! Is that you?"
"Yes. I've come over to tell you I'll marry you whenever you want. Martin dear, what's the matter? Are you ill?"
"It's nothing much—I've caught cold, and thought I'd better come home. Colds always make me feel wretched."
She could see that he was anxious about himself, and in her pity she forgave him for having ignored her surrender. She knelt down beside him and took both his restless hands.