I could get nothing further from Herrick just then. He went back to
his room, but not to sleep, for I could hear him pacing up and down
overhead. For myself, I dozed fitfully in the surgery arm-chair, and
when I finally opened my eyes with a start it was to find the room
filled with sunlight and Herrick standing over me, fully dressed, a
cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
"Wake up, Austin," he said. "I've stolen a march on Mrs. Searle.
It's hot, if it isn't otherwise drinkable."