“Yes; but who wants to think of being ill?”
“Nobody,” Nancy returned philosophically. “Still, now and then we must, you know. Witness Mr. Barth.”
St. Jacques smiled.
“Yes. But even Mr. Barth had a good nurse.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. Even my level best is none too even,” Nancy replied enigmatically, with scant consideration for the alien tongue of her companion.
He ignored her words.
“If I should be ill, would you take care of me?” he asked suddenly.
Still laughing, the girl shook her head.
“Never. I like you altogether too well, M. St. Jacques, to risk your life with my ministrations. Instead of that, though, I will come out here to see you as often as you will grant me admission.”
“Not here. They would never grant me admission in the first place,” St. Jacques responded dryly.