"I'm not sure that her ladyship's dressed yet.… If you wouldn't mind waiting, sir.… I have taken the paper into her ladyship's room.… I hope you've been keeping well, sir.…?"
Eric started in physical pain at the familiar friendliness of the old butler. The little confidences, introduced with a deprecatory cough, floated down from a height one stair above him. Barbara's room, as ever, was in chaos; her kitten, roused by his entrance, stretched herself and arched her back. Then the other door opened, and Barbara hurried in. Her arms were soft and cool as ever against his cheeks, and he caught a well-remembered breath of carnations as her head bent low on to his breast. He held her close; but his pressure suddenly relaxed, and he stepped back.
"Don't you like kissing me any more?" she asked. "I've been hungry for you all these months!"
"I was thinking what it would be like if you suddenly took yourself out of my life," said Eric.
"Darling, why must you spoil the present by dragging in the future?"
"I can't think of anything else."
Barbara took his arm and led him to a chair.
"I wish you didn't look so frightfully ill," she whispered. "Have you been missing me? My dear, what a mess I seem to have made of our lives! Sit down! Let me take care of you! Let me do what I can for you, darling! It isn't much!"
"I don't think I'd better stay, Babs," said Eric with nervous indecision. "I'm bad company; I shall only get on your nerves and upset you."
The girl shook her head sadly.