He was tall and straight, and his expression was good. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. He pretended to be unaware of the mishap. As he fell, he caught at the projecting masonry. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain.
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