"Afterwards, my dear lady, afterwards. With her head as bad as it was this morning, she ought not to see more than one person at a time."
"Just as you say, Doctor—and I hope you will find the poor child more comfortable. I can't tell you Doctor, how glad I am that you are here to look after her—I have worried over her so, I love her as though she were my own child, and that's a fact. Go up to her then, and I'll wait for you here." She sank on to a wicker settee, fanning herself with an awkward jerky movement.
Ferrati went to Ragna's room, and listened an instant at the door; there was no sound within—He tapped gently and entered in obedience to a languid "Come in!"
Ragna lay on the bed, staring towards the window. She was very pale, her eyes had dark circles and her features looked pinched and worn—In a toneless voice she asked the Doctor to be seated, and he drew a chair beside the bed. He felt her pulse, which was regular, but weak, and glanced anxiously at the sharpened delicacy of her face.
"How do you feel by now?"
"Oh, very tired," she answered wearily, "and rather stunned. My head seems too weak to think—and I must think," she added desperately, passing a hand over her forehead.
"I told you not to worry, that I would do the thinking for you," he reminded her. "Now is it essential that your friends should not guess—or could you take Fru Bjork into your confidence? Would she not help you?" He thought of the motherly anxiety the good woman had just displayed, and wondered if Virginia had not been wrong.
"Fru Bjork!" exclaimed Ragna, shuddering. "Oh, no! I would rather die than tell Fru Bjork! She is a good woman, she would not understand—she would despise me! Oh, not Fru Bjork!"
"Then if it won't do to tell her, you must find a way to leave her without her suspecting. You cannot remain with her much longer—not a day longer than can be helped."
"But how shall I manage it?"