So, when Mr Carleton entered, he found Miss Wychwood seated at one end of the sofa, the train of her dressing-gown lying in soft folds at her feet and her glorious hair hidden under a lace cap. She had managed to regain a measure of composure, and said, in a tolerably steady voice: 'How do you do? You must forgive me for receiving you like this: Jurby will have told you, I daresay, that I have been unwell, and am not yet permitted to leave my room.'
As she spoke, she tried to rise, but her knees shook so much that she was obliged to clutch at t
he arm of the sofa to save herself from falling. But even as she tottered Mr Carleton, crossing the room in two strides, caught her in his arms, and held her close, breast to breast, and fiercely kissed her.
'Oh!' gasped Miss Wychwood, making a feeble attempt to thrust him off. 'How dare you? Let me go at once!'
'You'd tumble over if I did,' he said, and kissed her again.
'No, no, you must not! Oh, what an abominable person you are! I wish I had never met you!' declared Miss Wychwood, abandoning the unequal struggle to free herself, and subsiding limply within his powerful arms, and shedding tears into his shoulder.
At this point, Jurby, smiling dourly, withdrew, apparently feeling that Mr Carleton was very well able to deal with Miss Wychwood without her assistance.
'Don't cry, my precious wet-goose!' said Mr Carleton, plant ing a third kiss under Miss Wychwood's ear, which, as her head was resting on his shoulder, was the only place available to him.
A watery chuckle showed that Miss Wychwood's sense of humour had survived the ravages of influenza. 'I am not a wet-goose!'
'You can't expect me to believe you if you don't stop crying at once!' he said severely. He swept her off her feet as he spoke, and set her down again on the sofa, himself sitting beside her, taking her hands in his, and pressing a kiss into each pink palm. 'Poor Honey!' he said. 'What a wretched time you've been having, haven't you?'
'Yes, but it is very unhandsome of you to call me a poor Honey!' she said, trying for a rallying note. 'You had as well tell me that I've become a positive antidote! My glass has told me so already, so it won't come as a shock to me!'
'Your glass lies. I see no change in you, except that you are paler than I like, and are wearing a cap, which I've not known you to do before.' He surveyed it critically. 'Very fetching!' he approved. 'But I think I prefer to see your guinea-curls. Will you feel obliged to wear caps when we are married?'
'But – are we going to be married?' she said.
'Well, of course we are! You don't suppose I'm offering you a carte blanche, do you?'
That made her laugh. 'I shouldn't be surprised if you were, for you are quite abominable, you know!'
'Wouldn't you be surprised?' he demanded.
Her eyes sank before the hard, questioning look in his. She said: 'You needn't glare at me! I only meant it for a joke! Of course it would surprise me!'
'Unamusing! Are you afraid I should be unfaithful to you? Is that why you said "are we to be married?" as though you still had doubts?'
'No, I'm not afraid of that. After all, if you did become unfaithful I should only have myself to blame, shouldn't I?'
The hard look vanished; he smiled. 'I don't think you would find many people to agree that you were to blame for my sins!'
'Anyone with a particle of commonsense would agree with me, because if you were to set up a mistress it would be because you had become bored with me.'
'Oh, if that's the case we need not worry! But you do still have doubts, don't you?'
'Not when you are with me,' she said shyly. 'Only when I'm alone, and think of all the difficulties – what a very big step it would be – how much my brother would dislike it – I wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be a mistake to marry you. And then I think that it would be a much greater mistake not to marry you, and I end by not knowing what I want to do! Mr Carleton, are you sure you want to marry me, and – and that I'm not a mere passing fancy?'
'What you are trying to ask me is whether I am sure we shall be happy, isn't it?'
'Yes, I suppose that is what I mean,' she sighed.
'Well, I can't answer you. How can I be sure that we shall be happy when neither of us has had any experience of marriage? All I can tell you is that I am perfectly sure I want to marry you, and equally sure that you are not a "mere passing fancy" of mine – what a damned silly question to ask me! If I had ever been such a shuttlehead as to have asked one of my passing fancies to marry me, I shouldn't be a bachelor today! – and there are two other things I am sure of ! One is that I have never cared for any of the charmers with whom I've had agreeable connections as I care for you; and another is that I have never in my life wanted anything more than I want to win you for my own – to love, and to cherish, and to guard – Oh, damn it, Annis, how can I make you believe that I love you with my whole heart and body, and mind?' He broke off, and said sharply: 'What have I said to make you cry? Tell me!'
'Nothing! I d-don't know why I began to cry. I think it must be because I'm so happy, and I've been feeling so dreadfully miserable!' she replied, wiping her tears away, and trying to smile.
Mr Carleton took her back into his arms. 'You're thoroughly knocked-up, sweetheart. Damn that woman for having foisted her influenza on to you! Kiss me!'
'I won't!' said Miss Wychwood, between tears and laughter. 'It would be a most improper thing for me to do, and you have no right to fling orders at me as though I were one of your bits of muslin, and I won't submit to being ridden over rough-shod!'
'Hornet!' said Mr Carleton, and put an end to further recriminations by fastening his lips to hers.