There was an ominous glitter in the ill man's eyes, the muscles in his cheeks twitched as his lips tightened.
"What do you mean by 'not altogether wise'?" he inquired coldly.
"I see you don't believe me, Roger. I don't suppose you noticed anything wrong with her. I don't know that I should have done so, if the doctor hadn't told me certain things. But the fact is, she wasn't always quite to be trusted in emergencies. She was a little—what do you call it?—erratic, that's the word. The doctor is even convinced that she was largely responsible for your father's relapse. There! I had not meant to speak of it!"
"That at least is a lie, a barefaced attempt to injure her!" cried
Roger, unable to bear any more.
"My dear! How can you!" murmured Thérèse so incredulously that he felt slightly ashamed.
"I don't say you invented it, Thérèse, but it's a lie for all that."
"I heard, too, from Dido about her sending you an excited message and then going off without seeing you," continued his stepmother calmly. "That is quite typical behaviour, so the doctor says. It is just the sort of thing she would do; it is really a mild mental case."
He made a gesture of weariness, suddenly feeling he must get rid of her.
"It may all be true, Thérèse; I'm sure I don't know. At any rate I think I'll try to get a nap, if you'll leave me. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Of course, dear! Thank Heaven you are going to be sensible. Perhaps, too, you'll let the doctor advise you about that anti-toxin? I should, if I were you."