She took a cup from his hand, and held it to the swollen lips. But he
could not swallow. The liquid trickled down into his beard.
"He's past it," murmured Curtis.
"Sybil!" The words came with a hard, rending sound. "Is he--good to
you?"
She was wiping away the spilt drops with infinite, unfaltering
tenderness.
"Yes, dear," she answered. "He is very good to me."
He uttered a great gasping sigh.
"That's--all--that matters," he said, and fell silent, still gazing at
her with eyes that seemed too fixed to take her in.
In the long, long silence that followed no one moved. But for those wild
eyes Sybil would have thought him sleeping.
Minutes passed, and at last Curtis spoke under his breath.
"You had better go. You can't do any more."
But she would not stir. She had a feeling that Robin still wanted her.
Suddenly through the night silence there came a sound--the hoof-beats of
a galloping horse.