Nothing stands still.
"How is he?" he said at once; and I answered:
"They think he will pull through."
"Oh, Pam!" he said; and then "Thank God!"
"Mother came to the hospital," I told him as I climbed into the
dog-cart. "Grace Gilpin seemed to think I would be there. It was
rather funny her thinking that."
"I told her--I wrote," he said.
I smiled; the don't-care mood was flourishing. I could feel it steadily
swallowing up my little qualms and pitiful sense of honour and dignity,
they were vanishing in it like debris thrown on thoroughly efficient
quicksands.
"How is your mother?"
"Longing for your return. Oh! Pam--the tremendously strong feeling she
has for you makes it doubly hard for both of us. You explained to
Markham--everything?"