There was no shutting out from Hugh's room after that day. A silent
figure stood at the door, waiting, its very shadow mighty enough to
sweep away bolts and bars. Whoever Hugh cared to see, came--except his
sister. He asked often for his sister, but Wareham knew that there must
have been difficulty in finding her, more difficulty in her reaching
them. Besides, Sir Michael's health was very precarious, and a telegram
had mentioned increased illness. Hugh listened, and apparently
understood, but weakness prevented his brain from grasping it except for
a few minutes. When he wandered now, it was feebly.
Spite of persuasions, Anne went no more on the yacht. More than once
Wareham found her on the landing; outside Hugh's room, her face drawn,
her eyes red-lidded; she flung him imploring glances, yet he fancied
that when a call drew her inside, she went reluctantly, and came out
quickly.