She turned back to him with her quick smile. "Trevor, thank you! I--I've decided to marry you as soon as ever I can--as soon as Hilda comes back from her honeymoon."
He was smoking a cigarette. He took it from between his lips and dropped it into an ash-tray. For a moment his face was turned from her. He seemed to be watching the smouldering ash. Then, "Really, Chris?" he said, looking down at her again.
She was tugging at her gloves. She thrust her hand out to him. "Button it, please!" she said, rather breathlessly, as if the exertion had exhausted her somewhat.
He took it, bent over it, suddenly pressed his lips to the soft wrist.
"Oh, don't!" said Chris, and snatched it from him.
When Max came back she was standing by the window, still fumbling at her glove, with her back turned, while her _fiancé_ leaned against the mantelpiece, finishing his cigarette.
Wearily Bertrand de Montville turned his head upon the sofa-cushion, and opened his heavy eyes. He seemed to be listening for something, but evidently he considered that he had listened in vain, for his eyelids began to droop again almost immediately. He seemed to drift into a state of semi-consciousness.
The evening sunlight was screened from his face by blinds, but even so its deep shadows were painfully distinct. He looked unutterably tired.
There came a slight sound at the door, and again his eyes were open. In a moment, with incredible briskness, he was off the couch and half-way across the room before, seized with sudden dizziness, he began to falter.
Trevor Mordaunt, entering, made a dive forward, and held him up.
"Now, my friend, lie down again," he said, "and stay down till further orders."
"Ah, pardon me!" the Frenchman murmured, clutching vaguely for support. "I am strong, more strong than you think. I--I--"
"Lie down," Trevor reiterated. "You don't give yourself a chance, man. You forget you have been a helpless invalid for the past ten days. There! How's that? Comfortable?"
"You are always so good--so good!" panted de Montville very earnestly. "I know not how to thank you--how to repay."
"Just obey orders, that's all," said the Englishman, faintly smiling. "I want to get you well. No, you are not well yet--say what you like, you're not. I've let you get up for an experiment, but if you don't behave yourself back you go. Now lie still, quite still, while I open my letters. When you have quite recovered your breath we will have a talk."