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 toward him, and she went quickly down the steps and across the lawn.

&quot;Denis, you look tired. I was afraid something had happened.&quot;

She had slipped her hand through his arm, and as they moved forward she glanced up at him, struck not so much by any new look in his face as by the fact that her approach had made no change in it.

&quot;I am rather tired.—Is your father in?&quot;

&quot;Papa?&quot; She looked up in surprise. &quot;He went to town yesterday. Don't you remember?&quot;

&quot;Of course I'd forgotten. You're alone, then?&quot; She dropped his arm and stood before him. He was very pale now, with the furrowed look of extreme physical weariness.

&quot;Denis—are you ill? Has anything happened?&quot;

He forced a smile. &quot;Yes but you need n't look so frightened.&quot;