"Oh, no, and I'm glad to see he's resting quietly. You can come in again for a little while this afternoon, if he's going on well."
Roger took leave of the invalid, who opened his sunken eyes for a moment, then closed them again.
"Come outside a moment," he whispered to the nurse when he reached the door.
She followed him into the hall, looking up inquiringly.
"Do you consider he's very ill?" asked Roger.
She looked at him earnestly and shook her head.
"Why, no, Mr. Clifford, since you ask me, I can honestly say that it seems to both the night-nurse and me an unusually light case of typhoid—about the lightest I've ever nursed, I should say. It certainly is typhoid, yet he has never run as high a temperature as one expects."
"Considering his age, that's lucky, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course, oh, yes!"
He thought she seemed a little puzzled.