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Such, at least, was the impression she received on his
joining her in the wide airy corridor outside the General's sick-chamber.
"I thought you were never coming back," she greeted him. "What has
detained you?"
"The Paris train was late," he returned. "And--wait an instant, Cousin
Henrietta. I want to speak to you. Yes, I am hot and tired, and I am put
out--I don't deny it."
"Why?" Henrietta asked him indifferently.
Her own temper was not at its brightest and best. The office of
ministering angel had begun most woefully to pall on her. What if this
illness betokened a break up of health on the part of General Frayling?
Bath chairs, hot bottles, air-cushions, pap-like meals and such kindred
unlovelinesses loomed large ahead! That was the worst of marrying an old,
or anyhow an oldish, man. You never could tell how soon the natural order
of things might be reversed, and you obliged to wait hand and foot on
him, instead of his waiting hand and foot on you. Henrietta felt fretful.
Her looking-glass presented a depressing reflection of fine lines and
sharpened features.


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