He was smoking, and forgot to ask her leave to
continue. Small things were swept from his mind by his evident anxiety.
"He is--very bad. But--oh, it was good of you to bring your violin!"
"Of course I did. If anything on earth can quiet him, that will. What
_is_ the trouble now that the throat is better?"
"I don't know. He thinks and thinks, and can't sleep, and the fever will
not go. In a grown person I suppose they'd call it brain-fever."
"Poor little boy."
They had passed the village and struck out on the straight road by the
park.
"I--I have missed you, Victor," she burst out suddenly, looking round
and laying her gloved hand on his arm.
"Hush!" he answered in a stern voice.
A second later he broke the silence by asking her if Tommy drank milk.
"No," she returned sullenly, "he hates it."
"That is a pity."
When they reached the gate and turned into the avenue she found to her
surprise that her eyes were full of tears. She had slept very little for
nights, and her nerves were upset. She wanted a personal word from him,
a look, but he gave her none.
"Theo sent you his love," he announced presently. "He is coming down
to-morrow. How is your mother?"
"All right.
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