She was so evidently exhausted that when Sarah brought the coffee, the
doctor slipped his hand under her shoulders and lifted her while she
drank it.
"Don't try to talk; I want you to sleep."
"Sleep! I can't sleep."
"You will," he assured her.
She lay back on her pillows, and for the first time she looked at him.
"Dr. King, he has quarrelled with me."
William flinched, as though some wound had been touched; then he said,
"Don't talk of it now."
She turned her face sharply away from him, burying it in her pillow.
"Mrs. Richie, you must try to eat something. See, Maggie has sent you
some very nice toast."
"I won't eat. I wish you would go."
There was silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, she cried out, "Well?
What are you going to do, all of you? What did Dr. Lavendar say?"
"Dr. Lavendar doesn't know anything about it."
"I don't know why I told you! I was out of my head, I think. And now
you despise me."
"I don't despise you."
She laughed. "Of course you do."
"Mrs. Richie, I'm too weak myself to despise anybody."
"I wish you would go away," she repeated.
"I will; but you must have a sedative first."
"David's bromide?" she said sarcastically, "A broken finger, or a
broken--well, anything. Dr. King--you won't tell Dr. Lavendar?"
"Tell? What kind of a man do you suppose I am! I wish you would tell
him yourself, though."
"Tell him myself?" she gave him another swift look that faltered as
her eyes met his.
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