'He is downstairs.'

Paula started, looking incredulous.

'Really, Bell?'

'He has just walked over from Pooley Bridge.'

'Oh, Bell, do tell me! Have those horrid measles left any trace? I
really can't discover any, but of course one hasn't good eyes for
one's own little speckles. Well, at all events, everybody hasn't
forgotten me. But do look at me, Bell.'

Her cousin regarded her with conscientious gravity.

'I see no trace whatever; indeed, I should say you are looking
better than you ever did.'

'Now that's awfully kind of you. And you don't pay compliments,
either. Shall I go down? Did you tell him where I was?'

Had Annabel been disposed to dainty feminine malice, here was an
opportunity indeed. But she looked at Paula with simple curiosity,
seeming for a moment to lose herself. The other had to repeat her
question.

'I mentioned that you were in the house,' she replied. 'He is
talking with father.'