The old lady took this as a compliment. "I haven't lived among Arabs, goodness knows how many years, for nothing," she retorted. "I telegraphed for her about five minutes after you wired from Azzouz. In fact, my telegram went back by the boy who brought yours."
"She may be here day after to-morrow, if she started at once," Stephen reflected aloud.
"She did, and she will," said Lady MacGregor, drily.
"You've heard?"
"The day I wired."
"You have quite a nice way of breaking things to people, you dear little ladyship," said Stephen. And for some reason which he could not in the least understand, this speech caused Nevill's aunt to break into tears.
That evening, the two surgeons extracted the bullet from Nevill's side. Afterwards, he was extremely weak, and took as little interest as possible in things, until Stephen was allowed to speak to him for a moment.
Most men, if told that they had just sixty seconds to spend at the bedside of a dear friend, would have been at a loss what to say in a space of time so small yet valuable. But Stephen knew what he wished to say, and said it, as soon as Nevill let him speak; but Nevill began first.
"Maybe—going to—deserve name of Wings," he muttered. "Shouldn't wonder. Don't care much."
"Is there any one thing in this world you want above everything else?" asked Stephen.