Under the blaze of the chandelier and amid a chorus of "Babs darling!" "Hullo, Babs," Eric found no difficulty in remaining composed. She was the more surprised of the two, for, as soon as she caught sight of him, she turned to Lady Poynter, crying:
"Margaret, you must send him home at once! He's been very ill and he's no business to be out of bed!"
"But he's going to America to-morrow, he was telling us."
For a moment Barbara's face was blank. She recovered quickly and repeated: "To-morrow? I've simply lost all count of time."
"Including dinner, darling," said Lady Poynter, with a meaning glance at the clock.
It was all so familiar that Eric's sense of probability would have been outraged, if he had not been put next to Barbara.
"I'm very glad to see you again, Eric," she whispered: "Dr. Gaisford was so gloomy about you.… How long have you been allowed out?"
"Oh, a week."
"And you never told me? You never wrote or telephoned——"
Eric felt his face stiffening into unamiable lines as he remembered the agony of the first four days' silence.