"No, no! ... It's all melted ... it won't buy a ticket.... I can't find her.... I can't get to her...."
Sophy sank down by the bed, and took the hot little hand in both her own.
"I'm here, my darling.... I'm here...." she said in a voice of wonderful quiet. "You won't need to go to London to find me, dearest.... See, I'm here...."
The brilliant eyes fixed on her anxiously. ".... Mother?" ventured the perplexed voice, faintly hopeful. Then again that piteous wail broke from him. The little hand jerked in hers trying to release itself. "You're not my mother ... my mother's in Venice.... I'm going to her.... Where's my money? Where's my money?"
Sophy dropped her face upon the bedclothes. The nurse and doctor stood by in silence. Bobby fumbled with the money. He began again: "A first-class ticket, please.... A ticket to London.... A ticket to London.... I've got the money ... here's the money...."
The anguish of remorse and love were rending her, but outwardly she was as calm as the two professionals who stood and pitied her.
She looked up at last. She said to Bellamy:
"You can trust me. I am quite controlled. But...." She gasped in spite of her furious will. ".... don't let her come into this room."
"No, she shall not. Don't be afraid," Bellamy said soothingly as to a child. "I will go and see to it. Nurse Fleming here will aid you in every way. Bobby likes her...." he added, then left the room.
Now the boy was turning his head from side to side on the pillow.