“I was anxious,” said Triona.
“About what?”
“Last night must have been a shock.”
“Of course it was,” she laughed; “but not enough to keep me all day long in fainting fits with doctors and smelling-bottles.”
“I hope you slept all right.”
“No,” she replied frankly. “That I didn’t do. The adventure was a bit too exciting. Besides——”
“Besides what?”
“It came into my head to make up my moral balance sheet. Figures of arithmetic always send me to sleep; but figures of—well, of that kind of thing, don’t you know—keep me broad awake.”
Olivia’s dark, eager face was of the kind that shows the traces of fatigue in faint shadows under the eyes. He swiftly noted them and cried out:
“You’re dead tired. It’s damnable.” He rose, suddenly angry. “You ought to go to bed at once. Your maid was right. I had no business to come at this hour and disturb you.”