“My name is Miss Barton. Thank you, there is no message I wish sent. I shall wait here for the physician’s report. I will tell Madame Lucile, myself, later.”
The tall, carefully groomed and good-looking young man approached, hat in hand:
“Permit me, Miss Barton, to go to her for you. I have a carriage waiting.”
“Thank you; but it will be better if I see the lady. Madame Lucile is our employer.”
“Here is my card, Miss Barton,” said Mrs. Van Dusen. “Let me know if I can be of any service. I shall inquire regularly at this hospital and my son will see the superintendent and arrange that special attention be given Miss Fisher. I am deeply grieved at the accident and hope sincerely that Miss Fisher will not suffer. Good-bye, Miss Barton. Are you coming, Howard?”
The young man came up to Helène and said in a kind voice:
“Pardon me for suggesting it, Miss Barton, but you ought to consult a lawyer on this matter.”
“Howard, what do you mean?” exclaimed his mother angrily. “What should Miss Barton consult a lawyer about?”
“Well, mother, Miss Barton’s friend may suffer in other ways than from the injuries she has received.”
“Well, of course, I am not going to shirk any responsibility. The young lady has my card. Come.”