"Yes, there's a great deal of it about the Riviera this season, as you may know."
"I've heard so."
"There have been several cases quite close to us, and one actually in the house, one of the maids. She went down with it four weeks ago, and has had a severe case. She's in a nursing home now. An attack of typhoid as violent as that would probably prove fatal to a man of my brother's age and in his state of health—for he hasn't been at all strong for several years. So you can understand how I—how we—feel about it."
With an impulse of sympathy Esther grasped the gloved hand on her arm and gave it a warm squeeze.
"You mustn't think such things," she admonished earnestly. "It may be nothing at all serious, over-fatigue, a slight cold. Besides, typhoid fever needn't be fatal, even at his age."
The elder woman's face lit up with a sudden, grateful smile.
"You're right. I shouldn't cross bridges—and I mustn't let him see
I'm worried. Thank you, my dear!"
She took a step downward, then turned and smiled again at Esther with friendly curiosity.
"What is your name," she asked, "and how do you come to be here?"
Esther told her.