"What is wrong, child ?" But Molly could not tell him.

She turned towards him indeed, laying an imploring hand on his arm; but she kept her face hidden and uttered no word.
It was Charlie who plunged recklessly into the opening breach--plunged with a wholesale gallantry, regardless of everything but the moment's emergency.
"It's my doing, Fisher," he declared, his voice shaking a little.

"I've been making an ass of myself.

It was, partly your fault, too--yours and Bertie's.

Let her go! I'll explain." He was excited and he spoke quickly, but his eyes were very steady.
"Molly," he said, "you go upstairs! You've got to dress, you know, and you'll be late.