"He gave me several prescriptions for different occasions, madam."
"Did he leave any instructions about the quantity of—morphine?" She paled as she uttered the word, but she felt that she must use it. It would have to be used very often between this man and herself if they were to save Cecil. "About the amount that you were to give Mr. Chesney!"
Gaynor looked down as though ashamed for the little doctor.
"He said that nothing could be done just at present, madam. That I must keep the master comfortable. That he must be reasoned with when he was better, and spoken to very plain for his own good."
"I see," said Sophy wearily.
She thought again; then asked:
"When do you think that Mr. Chesney will be strong enough for me to talk with him? I mean to talk really with him—to—to let him know that—I know!"
"By this evening—about nine, I should say, madam."
Sophy gazed at him in astonishment.
"By this evening? But he is still so ill, Gaynor!"