"I mustn't stay here talking. I have things to do for my patient."
"I'm glad he's got you to look after him," said Roger impulsively. "It can't be so bad to be…"
But she did not wait to hear more. With a quizzical smile over her shoulder she vanished into the bedroom, leaving him to descend the stairs whistling, conscious of an agreeable warmth he did not seek to analyse.
Esther also felt oddly elated, but she did not neglect to enter very softly, in case her patient should be dozing. Her hand still on the door-knob, she peered cautiously around the edge of the screen.
Someone was in the room, she felt it instinctively even before she discovered who it was. A woman's figure was bending over the table at the other side of the room, her back turned, and something eager and tense in her attitude. It was Lady Clifford. But what was she doing?
Of, of course! She was examining the chart.
CHAPTER XI
Why should Lady Clifford show so much curiosity about a technical thing like a medical chart? She was told several times a day exactly how her husband was progressing. She seemed to Esther like an importunate child, probing to know the future, which no one could foresee.
As this thought crossed her mind, a quick movement on the part of the figure opposite caused her to halt on the brink of making her presence known. She saw Lady Clifford straighten up and come towards her with a cautious step to the foot of the bed. She saw her lean forward, without touching the foot-board, and gaze with frowning intentness at the ill man's face. His eyes were still closed, he had perhaps fallen asleep; but if he had suddenly chanced to look up Esther thought that his wife's expression would have given him rather a shock. For the moment her beauty was quite altered. With her lip caught between her teeth and her eyes narrowed with a sort of avid, calculating sharpness, she appeared a different person. It was curious how anxiety could change one's appearance.
Suddenly Esther woke up to the fact that Lady Clifford did not realise she was being watched. What an embarrassing thought! Esther had never willingly spied on anyone in her life. Yet spying was surely too harsh a name for it. Eager to atone for her involuntary fault, she removed her hand from the door-knob, meaning to enter boldly. It was too late. At this exact moment the eyes of the watcher by the bed lifted and met hers. Instantly a new expression flashed into them, for the moment they seemed more yellow than grey.