“Oh no, it’s nothing of that sort,” said Zoe, jumping up and going to the edge of the verandah. “I think you do your doctor great credit.”
“Then what is it?”
“You really mustn’t ask so many questions,” she said desperately. She stood with her back to him, but he saw her dash for her handkerchief. “Do you know,” with a gallant attempt to be arch and cheerful, “that I had to tell them—make them believe—let them think that you and I were engaged before they would let me come to see you?” She turned hurriedly towards the steps.
“Zoe!” his voice arrested her, and she paused reluctantly, still with her back to him. “Zoe, come back—please come back. If you don’t, I shall get up.”
“Oh, you mustn’t!” The terrible threat brought her back at once, and he captured her hand.
“Dear, I would never have asked you to do it, but if you are willing to stand by me and help me now, I can only be grateful.”
“Only?” she said, but the tears flowed again, and spoiled the effect of the question. She brushed them away hastily. “Willing to help you—what a thing to ask!” she said. “I was only afraid you would not let yourself be helped.”
He drew her down into the chair beside him, and kissed the hand he held. “Now tell me what the trouble is,” he said.
A shudder ran through her. “Oh, don’t ask me!” she cried. “Let us be happy together just for this short time.”
“It is better to know. Tell me, dear, or—— No, it is a shame to ask you. You would rather I got the doctor to tell me?”