'You mean Mr. Wemyss?'
She bowed her head. She did mean Mr. Wemyss. Her nephew. Her nephew,
that is, by marriage.
'Quite,' said the doctor.
Her nephew naturally wanted his wife to go up and join him in London.
'Naturally,' said the doctor.
And she wanted to know when she would be fit to go.
'Then let us go upstairs and I'll tell you,' said the doctor.
This was a very pleasant little lady, he thought as he followed her up
the well-known stairs, to have become related to Wemyss immediately on
the top of all that affair. Now he would have said himself that after
such a ghastly thing as that most women----
But here they arrived in the bedroom and his sentence remained
unfinished, because on seeing the small head on the pillow of the treble
bed he thought, 'Why, he's married a child. What an extraordinary
thing.'
'How old is she?' he asked Miss Entwhistle, for Lucy was still uneasily
sleeping; and when she told him he was surprised.
'It's because she's out of proportion to the bed,' explained Miss
Entwhistle in a whisper. 'She doesn't usually look so inconspicuous.'
The whispering and being looked at woke Lucy, and the doctor sat down
beside her and got to business. The result was what Miss Entwhistle
expected: she had a very violent feverish cold, which might turn into
anything if she were not kept in bed. If she were, and with proper
looking after, she would be all right in a few days. He laughed at the
idea of London.
'How did you come to get such a violent chill?' he asked Lucy.
'I don't--know,' she answered.
'Well, don't talk,' he said, laying her hand down on the quilt--he had
been holding it while his sharp eyes watched her--and giving it a brief
pat of farewell. 'Just lie there and get better. I'll send something for
your throat, and I'll look in again to-morrow.'
Miss Entwhistle went downstairs with him feeling as if she had buckled
him on as a shield, and would be able, clad in such armour, to face
anything Everard might say.
'She likes that room?' he asked abruptly, pausing a moment in the hall.
'I can't quite make out,' said Miss Entwhistle. 'We haven't had any talk
at all yet. It was from that window, wasn't it, that----?'
'No. The one above;'
'The one above? Oh really.'
'Yes. There's a sitting-room. But I was thinking whether being in the
same bed--well, good-bye. Cheer her up. She'll want it when she's
better. She'll feel weak. I'll be round to-morrow.'
He went out pulling on his gloves, followed to the steps by Miss
Entwhistle.
On the steps he paused again. 'How does she like being here?' he asked.
'I don't know,' said Miss Entwhistle. 'We haven't talked at all yet.'