Afterwards we lunched on conversation and water.
Ah, and salad. Excellent salad. Then I went goat-stalking, and had a nap.
Sancie and the Seer conversed. A great day."
Lady Maria took Ingram's arm, Sanchia that of Chevenix, and they went
downstairs. Half-way down she stopped. Chevenix looked at her. She was
white; she could hardly breathe. "Good God, Sancie, what's the matter?"
She stared, gasped, moved her head about. "I can't go on--I can't--I
can't. It's horrible--it's awful--I'm afraid. Hush--don't make a fuss. I'm
going away. This isn't possible."
The other couple were in the dining-room by now. Chevenix didn't know what
to do.
"There's dinner, you know, Sancie," he said. "That's an institution, eh?
You'll feel better, I expect. Keep your pecker up. I'll have a go at
Nevile for you. I swear I will. Now, where's your pluck, my dear?"
She shook her head, struggling all the time to get her breath. "It's gone
--clean gone."
"You want food, Sancie; that's what you want. Come. Don't let's have a
commotion. You leave all this to me."
She leaned against the wall, and brushed her hand across her face.
Chevenix was in despair. Nevile, from below, called up, "What are you two
conspiring about?" Sanchia shivered, and stood up.
Pages:
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416