Chris rose from the table as he sat down. "I will send him a note at once if I may, or I shall miss the post."
"Have you had any breakfast?" he asked, detaining her as she passed his chair.
"Oh, Aunt Philippa, I have, indeed!" protested Chris, colouring vividly. "Besides, I'm not hungry."
"Besides!" echoed Mordaunt, faintly smiling. "Drink a cup of hot milk before you go."
She made a wry face. "I can't. I hate it. Please don't keep me!"
"Then do as you are told," he said. "I thought I ordered you to stay in bed."
"Oh, don't be absurd!" said Chris; but she went back to her place and poured out the milk as he desired.
"Now drink it," he said, with his eyes upon her.
She obeyed him without further protest, finally setting the cup down with a sigh of relief.
Mordaunt rose to open the door. "You are not to do anything energetic to-day," he said.
She threw him a smile, half-shy, half-wistful, and departed without replying.
He turned back into the room and sat down. "I am not quite satisfied about Chris," he said.
"Neither am I," said Aunt Philippa, with unexpected severity.
He looked at her with awakened attention. "No?" he said courteously.
"No." Very decidedly came Aunt Philippa's reply. "I intended to speak to you upon the subject, my dear Trevor, and I am glad that an early opportunity for so doing has presented itself."
"You think she looks ill?" Mordaunt asked.
"Not at all," said Aunt Philippa. "The intense heat we have had lately is quite sufficient to account for her jaded looks. She has probably also been fretting unreasonably over the death of her dog. I believe that animal was the only thing in the world she ever really cared for."
Mordaunt rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her thoughtfully. "Indeed!" he said.
Neither his voice nor his face expressed anything whatever beyond a decorous gravity. Aunt Philippa began to feel slightly exasperated.
"She will get over that," she said, with a confidence that held more of contempt than tolerance. "None of the Wyndhams are fundamentally capable of taking anything seriously for long. You must have discovered their instability for yourself by this time."
"Not with respect to Chris." Was there a hint of sternness underlying the placidity of the rejoinder? There might have been, but Aunt Philippa was too intent upon the matter she had taken in hand to notice it.