Lady Clifford pondered this, her hand still on Esther's arm, the
fingers drumming jerkily. Then she said suddenly:

"You will think me stupid to be so emotional. The doctor does; he has
no sympathy with nerves! I know many wives would take all this quite
calmly, but unfortunately for me, I am too sensitive, I feel things so
terribly! I keep thinking, if anything should happen to my husband..."

"But I don't see why anything should happen, he's really getting on
very nicely," returned Esther, more and more perplexed.

She was unprepared for the almost fierce way in which the other turned
upon her, saying:

"You think that too, do you? He is, as you say, getting on nicely,
quite safely?"

It was almost accusing.

"Why, yes. I'm sure there's no immediate cause for alarm."

The delicate brows knit into a frown, the hand on Esther's arm
tightened its grip.

"Then _you_ don't think that for a man of his age and in his state of
health typhoid is--is a thing to--to be frightened about? _You_ would
not be frightened for him?"

Esther glanced apprehensively at the bed.

"If you don't mind, Lady Clifford, I think we'd better not talk in
here. One can't always be certain if he's asleep."

As tactfully as she could she manoeuvred her companion towards the
door. Lady Clifford went willingly enough, but on the threshold she
paused and said, more distinctly than was necessary, it seemed:

"Yes, yes, you are quite right. But you see I have been afraid he had
not the strength to resist any serious disease. You do understand my
being so nervous, don't you?"

Esther closed the door with a feeling of annoyance. How silly of Lady
Clifford, at the very moment when she had been cautioned! Had the old
man heard? It was often difficult to tell about him, when he lay so
quiet. She did not want him to be upset by thinking the family were
apprehensive about him.

She went to the window and looked out. Her hand still smelled of Lady
Clifford's distinctive perfume; she sniffed at it, trying to decide if
she liked it or not. It was delicious, but heavy, clinging. What was
it the night-nurse had said to her the evening before?

"Isn't Lady Clifford a dream?" the woman had confided gushingly. "Did
you ever see anything so lovely? I do so adore her scent when she
comes into the room. Yet for all she's such a picture, I never saw
anything like her devotion to that old husband of hers--poor dear, she
worries so she