It's the cigarette. They often have that
effect. Don't look so worried, or I shall think you hate me for being
a nuisance."
"If you talk so foolishly I shall go."
She made an attempt to rise, but Vardri caught at her skirts. "You
won't go! You don't want to make me worse, do you? Think how sorry
you'll be if I cough and worry you all the evening!"
"Can't I get you anything? If only I were not so stupid about illness.
Don't try to talk if it makes you worse."
"I won't--if you'll stay."
To Arithelli caresses did not come easily, but during the last few
weeks she had learnt many things. She stroked the dark head that
rested against her knee, wondering how it was that she had never before
noticed till to-day how feverishly brilliant Vardri's eyes were, and
how his skin burnt. She had often heard him coughing before, but he
had always gone away and left her when an attack came on, with some
laughing excuse about the horrible noise he made. After a while he
shifted his position, and smiled up at her.
"You're getting tired, Fatalite!"
"No.
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