"In this way, sir," she was saying. "Yes, Rich, you stay in the garden. I'll be there."
Senator Gilman, bowing his head under the low lintel, was coming in. He walked up to the bedside, and Sabrina's eyes appraised him. He was a remarkable-looking man, with the flowing profile of a selected type, and thick gray hair tossed back from his fine forehead. He sat down by her.
"Well, Bina," said he.
This was not the voice that had filled the hall that morning or jovially greeted townsmen all the afternoon. It was gently adapted to her state, and Sabrina quieted under its friendliness.
"Couldn't go away without seeing you," said Senator Gilman. "They told me you were sick. I said to myself, 'She'll see me. She'll know 'twould spoil my visit, if I had to go away without it.'"
Sabrina was looking him sweetly in the face, and smiling at him.
"How much time you got?" she asked, like a child.
He took out his watch.
"My train is at five forty-five," he said.
"Then you talk fast."