"What Wardlaw? why, the great London merchant, his son. Leastways he manages the whole concern now, I hear; the old gentleman, he is retired by all accounts."
"CURSE HIM! CURSE HIM! CURSE HIM!" yelled James Seaton, with his eyes glaring fearfully and both hands beating the air.
Sarah Wilson recoiled with alarm.
"That angel marry him!" shrieked Seaton. "Never, while I live. I'll throttle him with these hands first."
What more his ungovernable fury would have uttered was interrupted by a rush of nurses and attendants, and Wilson was bundled out of the place with little ceremony.
He contrived, however, to hurl a word after her, accompanied with a look of concentrated rage and resolution.
"NEVER, I TELL YOU—WHILE I LIVE."
At her next visit to the hospital Wilson was refused admission by order of the head surgeon. She left her flowers daily all the same.
After a few days she thought the matter might have cooled, and, having a piece of news to communicate to Seaton with respect to Arthur Wardlaw, she asked to see that patient.
"Left the hospital this morning," was the reply.