But Merefleet would not allow it.

He saw what Seton did not stop to see; and it was he, not Seton, who lifted her to her feet a moment later and half-led, half-carried her out of the stifling room.
With a practical commonsense eminently characteristic of him, Seton remained to pour out a glass of brandy; and thus armed he followed them into the vestibule.

Mab was lying back in an arm-chair when he arrived.
Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing quickly.

Merefleet was propping open the door on to the terrace.

The lights flickered in the draught and gave a strange look to the colourless face on the cushion.