Ivor was past speaking, and she busied herself for some minutes, bathing his brow, till he could murmur, "I'm a trouble to everybody."
"One does not talk of trouble when people are—what you are to us."
He could not smile, thinking of that which might have come to Roy.
"I wish I could see you a little stronger. Such a short turn ought not to knock you up like this. Lucille says you are kept back by the suspense as to my boy. Is that true?" She spoke steadily, for trouble long-continued had taught the once spoilt wife self-control.
Denham's hand closed on hers silently.
"You must not be too anxious. I think it shows a want of trust. I try hard not to be so myself. My boy is in God's hands, and He will not fail us. I do believe our prayers will be heard—and Roy be taken care of."
"Such trust—cannot be thrown away!"
"Lucille still hopes to hear from Jean."
"Yes—"
"Den, I want to ask you something else. Are you worrying yourself about getting so few letters from home? From Polly, I mean. I don't think you need. We know how often she may have written, and not a single letter reach us."