"Yes, sir, I'll be careful to. But are you sure he don't want a doctor? Are you sure he won't die?"
"Quite sure; and you can tell him, if you like, that I say it is all right."
"Is it all right, sir?"
"If it isn't, I'm going to try to make it so. I shall sleep here to-night, Fanny."
"And welcome, sir. We haven't a spare bedroom, but I can make you up a bed on the sofa in the parlour."
"I shall not need it. I am going to sleep in Devlin's room, on the floor."
She caught my arm with a cry of alarm. "Has he got hold of you, too, sir? The Lord save us! He's got the lot of us in his claws!"
"Don't be absurd," I said. "I know what I'm about, and Mr. Devlin will find me a match for him. No more questions; do as you are bid. If you have a mattress and some bedclothes to spare, bring them up at once."
"I won't look at him, sir--I won't speak to him! O, how shall I ever forgive myself--how shall I ever forgive myself?"
She threw her apron (which during my absence she had put on over her faded black silk dress) over her head, and swayed to and fro in the passage, moaning and groaning in great distress of mind.