“You must be mad,” he said. “Stay here while I fetch it!”
He strode away, and she sat and waited for his return, shivering against the wall, wondering if Maggie and Oliver had separated, wishing with all her heart that she had not overheard their talk.
She heard the tramp of his heavy boots returning. He came back to her.
“The letter is not here,” he said briefly. “Does it matter?”
She started. “Not there! But—I thought I saw it from my window. I thought——”
“It is not there,” he repeated. “It has probably blown away. Is it of any great importance?”
His tone seemed to challenge her. She looked up and met his eyes watching her with a certain hardness.
“No,” she said, and wondered what impulse moved her to utter the word.
She smiled a little at his insistence. “Yes, quite sure. Please don’t trouble about it! It will probably turn up later.”
He dropped the subject without further discussion. “I had better carry you back now,” he remarked, and stooped to lift her.
She drew back sharply. “Oh, don’t, please! I can walk quite well.”
“You’re not going to walk,” he said, and in a moment the strong brown arms encompassed her.
She abandoned protest. Somehow he made her feel like a child, and she knew that resistance was useless. It was not a dignified situation, but it appealed to her sense of humour, and as he bore her solidly back along the paths between the hollyhocks she uttered a breathless little laugh.
“Why, no! I am obliged to you. To be quite honest, I rather doubt if I could have walked back without some help.”
“Then it is just as well I am here to carry you,” he rejoined.
There was no sound of voices as he entered the house, and Frances breathed a sigh of thankfulness.
He carried her straight through and up to her room. “I hope you will not attempt that again before you are fit for it,” he said, as he deposited her upon the bed.
“Thank you very much. I hope I shall soon be fit,” said Frances.
He lingered in the doorway, his rugged face in shadow. “I hope you won’t,” he said suddenly and unexpectedly, and in a moment flung away down the passage awkwardly, precipitately, as if he feared he had stayed too long.
“Good gracious!” whispered Frances to the lengthening shadows. “What—on earth—did he mean by that?”