The fragility of his look struck him painfully, and the pathetic contrast between it and the fretting spirit--the books of travel and adventure heaped round him.
"Have you been ill again ?" he asked in his kind, deep voice.
"Oh, just a beastly chill.

Elizabeth would make me take too many wraps.
Everyone knows you oughtn't to get overheated walking." "Do you want to stay on here longer ?" "Not I! What do I care about glaciers and mountains and that sort of stuff if I can't hunt?
But Elizabeth's got at the doctor somehow, and he won't let me go for three or four days unless I kick over the traces.

I daresay I shall." "No you won't--for your sister's sake.

I'll see all arrangements are made." Philip made no direct reply.

He lay staring at the ceiling--till at last he said-- "Delaine's going.