"That's no loss, I'm sure!" returned Aldred.
"Well, as it happens, it is. I've such a splitting headache, I was going to beg for sal volatile."
"Perhaps Miss Forster may have some."
"I asked her, but she hadn't; and then Mademoiselle came fussing along, wanting to know what was the matter. When I told her I had a headache, she declared it might be the beginning of something infectious, and said that I must sleep in the hospital to-night, and she would examine me to-morrow morning, to see whether a rash had come out. 'Ve cannot be too careful vile Mees Drummond is avay!' she said."
"But you're not really going?"
"I shall have to. I'd have asked Miss Forster to interfere, but she'd hurried away by that time. I've come to collect my night things now."
"What a ridiculous swindle! Can't I go too?"
"No; remember, it's a case of isolation!" said Mabel, smiling.
"But you'll be afraid to sleep there all alone."
"Oh, no, I shan't! Mademoiselle offered to send Hunter—she's generally told off for hospital duty—but I said I'd rather not have her. I'm not a scrap ill; it's only my head."