"Every time," said Stetson.
"If you want to go into politics, Lewis," said Polly, "I'd be delighted
to--"
"I'm already in politics as far as I want to be," growled Orne. "What I
really want is to settle down with Di, catch up on some of the living
I've missed."
Diana stiffened. "I never want to see, hear _from_ or hear _of_ Mr.
Lewis Orne ever again!" she said. "That is final, emphatically final!"
Orne's shoulders drooped. He turned away, stumbled, and abruptly
collapsed full length on the thick carpets. There was a collective gasp
behind him.
Stetson barked: "Call a doctor! They warned me at the hospital he was
still hanging on a thin thread!"
There was the sound of Polly's heavy footsteps running toward the hall.
"Lew!" It was Diana's voice. She dropped to her knees beside him, soft
hands fumbling at his neck, his head.
"Turn him over and loosen his collar!" snapped Spencer. "Give him air!"
Gently, they turned Orne onto his back. He looked pale, Diana loosed his
collar, buried her face against his neck. "Oh, Lew, I'm sorry," she
sobbed. "I didn't mean it! Please, Lew ... please don't die! Please!"
Orne opened his eyes, looked up at Spencer and Stetson. There was the
sound of Polly's voice talking rapidly on the phone in the hall. He
could feel Diana's cheek warm against his neck, the dampness of her
tears. Slowly, deliberately, Orne winked at the two men.