"Kind? Nonsense!" It was Honor who spoke. "Now . . will you have a peg, or some tea?" "Tea, please. And after that, I may see . . Eldred, mayn't I?" Instinctively she appealed to Desmond, who knitted his brows in distress. "I'm afraid that's out of the question, . . yet awhile," he said. "Well then . . when?" "Can't say for certain. Probably not for two or three days. I wouldn't so much as risk telling him that you are here till then." The mist on her lashes overflowed; and she dashed an impatient hand across them with small result. "But I have waited three days already. And since this morning I have been counting the hours . . the minutes . ." It was no use. She could not go on without further loss of dignity; and Honor hastened into the breach. "Drink your tea first, dear. You can talk afterwards." And as she obeyed, Desmond came round and sat beside her. "See here, Miss Maurice," he began. But she raised an imploring hand. "Oh, don't call me that . . now. It hurts. It makes me feel I have no manner of right to be here. And I have a little right, haven't I?" "More than a little, I should say, . . Mrs Lenox. Is that better?" She flushed to the eyes, and glanced down at her bare left hand. It was the first time she had heard her married name; and the sound of it was music in her ears. But she shook her head. "No. It's almost worse, till I know for certain what's going to come of my mad leap in the dark." "Well then . . . ?" "Why not . . 'Quita'?" She looked up beseechingly. "I should love that: and it would make me feel less of an intruder." "You are forbidden, on pain of instantaneous eviction, to feel anything of the sort! And I heartily vote for 'Quita,'" Desmond answered, smiling into her troubled face with so irresistible a friendliness that she must needs smile back at him, however mistily. "Oh, but it's good to talk nonsense with you again!" she cried. "Only, I want to know, . . please, about Eldred. He is too weak. Is that it?" "Far too weak. You see, we only pulled him round the corner at three o'clock this morning; and the great thing now is to avoid any risk of reactionary fever. Well, you know yourself . . I may speak frankly?" She inclined her head. "Your coming, besides being emotionally disturbing, will make something of a complication under the circumstances . ." "Oh, I know . . I know! It seems like forcing his hand. Every minute I see more plainly that I ought never to come at all." "Waiting would have been wiser," Desmond reproved her gently. "But I admire the pluck of the whole thing far too much to scold you for it." Her smile had a touch of wistfulness. "That's so like you! But I don't know about pluck. Perhaps, if I had realised all the details, I might have hesitated; though I doubt it. I half lost my senses for the time being; and I believe poor Michel thought I'd lost them permanently! He was furious with me for going."