Roger eyed her sympathetically.
"Don't look so upset, Esther," he whispered reassuringly. "You must tell me presently what happened, though I have a pretty good idea."
They both glanced at the old man. His eyes were closed now, he was breathing more quietly.
"He seems all right," murmured Esther doubtfully. "I'm still a little frightened; it—it was terrifying."
He took her arm and drew her well out of earshot towards the window.
"Don't worry too much," he told her. "I shouldn't wonder if the poor old boy is more used to bursts of temperament than you are, you know!"
She smiled at him gratefully, feeling comforted. It was not till later that she realised he had a moment ago called her "Esther." It had seemed perfectly natural.
Soon after lunch she made an excuse to take her patient's temperature, for she was not yet sure he had suffered no bad effects. However, the thermometer registered no change. Sir Charles may have noticed the relief on her face, for he remarked hesitatingly, choosing his words:
"You mustn't take my wife's excitability too much to heart, nurse. It is true she goes up in the air sometimes, but she always comes down again. She's rather like a spoiled child, but that may be partly my fault."
"Of course—you mustn't think I don't understand," she assured him quickly, thinking what a generous explanation he had given for an unpardonable offence. The instance she had witnessed of Lady Clifford's "temperament" was unique in her experience, and she hoped it would remain so. Not readily would she forget those sharp accents of rage and—was it fear? She had thought at the time it was fear; she could not be certain.