the weight of his body was more than he could bear. He stooped over
Prissie, and lifted her.

"Robin--you can't. You're dropping to pieces."

"I'm all right." He heaved her up with one tremendous, irritated effort,
and carried her upstairs, fast, as if he wanted to be done with it.
Through the open doors Harriett could hear Prissie's pleading whine, and
Robin's voice, hard and controlled. Presently he came back to her and they
went into his study. They could breathe there, he said.

They sat without speaking for a little time. The silence of Prissie's room
overhead came between them.

Robin spoke first. "I'm afraid it hasn't been very gay for you with poor
Prissie in this state."

"Poor Prissie? She's very happy, Robin."

He stared at her. His eyes, round and full and steady, taxed her with
falsehood, with hypocrisy.

"You don't suppose _I'm_ not, do you?"

"No." There was a movement in her throat as though she swallowed something
hard. "No. I want you to be happy."

"You don't. You want me to be rather miserable."

"_Robin!_" She contrived a sound like laughter. But Robin didn't