May put her hand over her face; she was recalling her interview with Ralph Webster on the bridge.
“Who brought me here?” she asked, presently, in a low, pained tone.
“Mr. Webster—Ralph Webster; you are a friend of his, he tells me.”
For a moment or two May said nothing, and the doctor was turning away to give some directions to the nurse, when she once more addressed him:
“Can I see Mr. Webster?” she asked.
“Certainly, if you wish it. I will bring him to you at once,” replied Doctor Brentwood; and a few minutes later Webster was in the room.
He went up not unmoved to the bed on which May was lying, with her white face and her loosed hair.
“Doctor Brentwood says you are better, and that you wish to see me?” he said, in a low tone.
“Yes, I wish to see you alone for a few minutes,” answered May.