I have such a poisonous headache. I feel so funny! I——
* * * * *
For ten days I haven't been allowed to write, not even to Michael, and even now I may only do so for a 'very little while.'
After my headache I remember nothing till I found myself in bed and Ross making up the fire, still in his old dinner jacket. He looked a giant in the dim light, and I called out to him,—
'Why am I in bed if it's dinner time?'
'It isn't, it's eleven o'clock at night.'
'Then why are you here, Ross?'
'You weren't very well, fainted or something naughty, and I'm just going to change and stay with you for a bit.'
'But I don't want any one to sit up with me.'
'Sorry,' said the giant firmly.