"What are you doing here?" he asked sternly.
"I think," she replied, trying to master her excitement, "that Lord Radclyffe has fainted. I did not know what to do."
"I should think not indeed," he said; "and why did you not ring for the nurse? and why are you here?"
"I wished to see Lord Radclyffe myself," she replied.
"Without my permission?"
"You would have refused it."
"Certainly I should. And I must request you to leave the sick room at once."
Baffled and miserable, she stood for a moment hesitating, vaguely wondering if she could rebel. Indeed, she had no option but to obey. The doctor was well within his rights: she, utterly in the wrong.
She turned toward the door ready to go, but in order to reach it from where she stood, she had to go past the foot of the bed.
The nurse was busy administering restoratives, and Doctor Newington had taken up the attitude dear to every Englishman: his stand upon the hearth rug, and his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. He was treating Louisa like a disobedient child, and she had no one to appeal to in this moment of complete helplessness.