e had humiliated her at a
time like this. Yet she had let Dr. Page go without a word. She returned
to Wilbur and established herself beside his bed. He tried to smile at
her coming.

"I think I shall be better to-morrow. It is only a heavy cold," he said,
but already he found difficulty in speaking.

"I have come to nurse you. The blankets and hot-water bottle have made
you warmer, haven't they? Nod; you mustn't talk."

"Yes," he whispered huskily.

She felt his forehead, and it was burning. She took his hand and saying,
"Sh! You ought not to talk," held it in her own. Then there was silence
save for Wilbur's uneasy turning. It was plain that he was very
uncomfortable. She realized that he was growing worse, and though she
chose to believe that the doctor had exaggerated the seriousness of the
case in order to affront her, the thought came that he might die. She
had never considered such a possibility before. What should she do? She
would be a widow without children and without means, for she knew that
Wilbur had laid up little if anything. She would have to begin life over
again--a pathetic prospect, yet interesting. Even this conjecture of
such a dire result conjured up a variety of possible methods of
livelihood and occupation which sped through her mind.

The return of Dr. Page with a nurse cut short these painful yet
engrossing speculations. His offensive manner appeared to have exhausted
itself, but he proceeded to install his companion in Wilbur's room.
Selma would have liked to turn her out of the house, but realized that
she could not run the risk of taking issue with him at a time when her
husband's life might be in danger. With an injured air yet in silence
she beheld the deliberate yet swift preparations. Once or twice Dr. Page
asked her to procure for him some article or appliance likely to be in
the house, speaking with a crisp, business-like preoccupation which
virtually ignored her existence, yet was free from offence. His soul
evidently was absorbed by his patient, whom he observed with alert
watchfulness, issuing brief directions now and then to his white-capped,
methodical, and noiseless assistant. Selma sat with her hands before her
in a corner of the bed-room, practically ignored. The shadows deepened
and a maid announced dinner. Dr. Page looked at his watch.

"I shall pass the night here," he said.

"Is he worse?"

"The disease is making progress and must run its course. This is only
the