Toward evening she called at the cottage.
Mrs. Boam showed her up.
Joses lay on a bed under the slope of the roof, his head at the window so that he could look out.
His face was faintly livid, and he breathed with difficulty.
Mrs. Woodburn's heart went out to him at the first glance.
"I'm sorry to see you like this, Mr. Joses," she said gently. "You wanted to see me?"
"Well," he answered, "it was Miss Woodburn I wanted to see." He looked at her wistfully out of eyes that women had once held beautiful. "D'you think she'd come?"
"I'm sure she will," the other answered reassuringly.
Joses lay with his mop of red hair like a dingy and graying aureole against the pillow.
"D'you mind?" he asked.