"Ah, it's you, nurse!" she murmured. "You do not mind my being here, do you?"
Esther stood still for a second, trying not to betray that she was annoyed. Why couldn't the woman leave her poor husband alone? Recalling the doctor's injunction to her, she wondered how she could convey the needed hint to Lady Clifford without giving offence.
"Did you want anything, Sir Charles?" she inquired a little pointedly, coming forward and gently taking the pillow out of Lady Clifford's hand.
"No, nothing at all," the patient replied somewhat fretfully.
"I thought he seemed so—so terribly hot," explained the Frenchwoman with a note of apology. "I always think when one is ill…"
She left her sentence unfinished while her eyes took a quick survey of the smooth sheet. Words Sir Charles had spoken a little while ago in regard to his wife's "fidgeting about his pillow" recurred to Esther.
"Were you looking for something, Lady Clifford?" she asked, cheerfully bland.
The Frenchwoman shot her a glance, her beautiful eyes wide with surprised negation.
"Mais non," she replied with a graceful shrug. "But why do you ask that?"
"I beg your pardon," murmured Esther, confused by the other's sweeping repudiation.