"Elizabeth!" The sound of his voice seemed to break the spell.

A half-choked sob came through her teeth; the struggle for composure commenced.
"I am ill," she murmured.

"Give me my glass.

Give it to me." Her fingers were feeling for it but it seemed as though she dared not move her head.

He filled it with wine and placed the stem in her hand.
Even then she spilled some of it upon the tablecloth.