"No, Frances. But won't you lie down a little? Take off your things? Lie down on your bed?"
"No . . . no . . . I'm a little better . . . I must go down . . ."
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yes . . . Give me some . . . eau-de-Cologne . . . Oh, Louise, everything suddenly went black! . . ."
"You felt giddy, I expect. Did you take your drops to-day?"
"Yes, but they're no good, those drops. I'm much better now, Louise. Are you angry with me? . . ."
"No."
"For saying Otto was in love with you?"
"Oh, nonsense, Frances!"
"Yes, he is in love with you. You're mad, you two: brother and sister; I never heard of such a thing . . . I'm better, Louise. Will you help me downstairs? And will you . . . will you have your dinner with the children? That's sweet of you . . . You see, the foreign secretary's coming and that's why Papa wants Otto and me to be at the dinner. Otherwise I don't care about that sort of thing . . . I'm much better now, Louise . . . Come, take me downstairs."
She stood up and Louise helped her down the stairs, tenderly.
The maids were running upstairs, downstairs and along the passages; footmen were waiting in the
