Rachel put her hand on his arm.
"Do come into the parlour and have the easy-chair."
"I'll come—I'll come," he said, with the same annoyance. "Give us a chance." His voice was now a little less noisy.
"But you might have been killed!"
"You bet I might! Eight hoofs all over me! One tap from any of the eight would have settled yours sincerely."
"Louis!" She spoke firmly. "You must come into the parlour. Now come along, do, and sit down and let me look at your face." She removed his hat, which was perched rather insecurely on the top of the bandages. "Who was it looked after you?"
"Well," he hesitated, following her into the parlour, "it seems to have been chiefly Mrs. Heath."
"But didn't they take you to a chemist's? Isn't there a chemist's handy?"
"The great Greene had one of his bilious attacks and was in bed, it appears. And the great Greene's assistant is only just out of petticoats, I believe. However, everybody acted for the best, and here I am. And if you ask me, I think I've come out of it rather well."
He dropped heavily on to the Chesterfield. What she could see of his cheeks was very pale.