"It's a mild attack of pneumonia," said he, standing in front of her. "Very mild. I can see no cause for anxiety. You'd better have a nurse for the night."
"I would sooner sit up myself," Lilian answered. "I've nursed pneumonia before."
"Then have a nurse for the day," the doctor suggested. "I can get an English one from the Alexandra Hospital--a very good one. She might come in at once and stay till ten o'clock, say." Then he proceeded to the treatment, prescriptions, and so on.... An English nurse!
Lilian felt extraordinarily grateful and reassured. She knew where she was now. She was in England again.
"Ought I to telegraph home?" she asked.
"I shouldn't if I were you," the doctor replied. "Better to wait for a day or two. Telegrams are so disturbing, aren't they?"
His gentle manner was inexpressibly soothing. It was so soothing that just as he was leaving she kept him back with a gesture.
"Doctor, before you go, I wish you would do something for me." And she sat down, her face positively burning and shed tears.
In the night, as she sat with Felix, the patient's condition unquestionably improved. He even grew cheerful and laudatory.
"You're a great girl," he muttered weakly but firmly. "I know I was most absurdly cross, but I'm a rotten invalid."