Pamela let the basin of water she was holding fall on the floor. She didn't scream as any less well-regulated mind would have done, but she let the basin slip out of her hands, and the water made a dreadful mess on the floor.
'Cut his throat?' she repeated faintly—she was nearly as white as Lucy—'and Eric——'
'Eric sewed it up.'
'Is—is he dead?'
She asked the question hoarsely, in a voice Lucy couldn't have recognised for Pamela's, but she was past noticing voices.
'No—o; Eric has asked God to give him back his life, that he may begin it afresh.'
'What use is that?' said Pamela bitterly.
'I am sure God heard him—we were praying for him when the nurse came in. He was asking that the nurse might be sent quickly, and she came while the words were on his lips.'
'Of course the nurse would be sent; you can get a nurse at any moment from Addenbroke's without praying for one.'