She stooped and kissed him warmly, lifting her veil, and pressing her cheek to his. The great arms held her tight an instant, then pushed her somewhat roughly away.
"Go—there's a good girl—please go——" he said.
This going of Sophy was very different from the last time that he had bidden her from him.
She went; and ten minutes later Nurse Harding came in again.
Her patient had turned his face to the wall and flung an arm over it. She glanced at him curiously from time to time, busying herself here and there about the room in her mouse-like way. Then she drew up the prescribed dose of poison into the little glass and metal instrument, and went over to the bed.
"I say, sir," she began, almost shyly for Nurse Harding. "I wouldn't bother you, but it's time for your hypo——"
He did not stir. Anne blinked.
"Want to play 'good boy' and lengthen the time, sir?"
No answer and no movement. Anne went softly and laid the syringe on the table. Then she came back. She stood for a moment, biting her sharp little knuckles and staring down at the broad back. Then she burst out:
"Mrs. Chesney's told me, sir."