‘Charles, you ought to go to bed,’ she said, ‘and stop there to-morrow.’
‘I dare say, but I shan’t,’ said Charles hoarsely.
‘Why? It is very unwise of you. I’ll tell Mr Keeling as soon as I get there in the morning. I’m sure he’ll think you were right.’
‘Oh, I shall be better,’ said he. ‘Considering that he saw me through an illness last year, the least I can do is to hold on as long as I can.’
‘So that he may have the pleasure of seeing you through another one this year,’ remarked Norah.
‘Don’t be so optimistic. I may die instead.’
‘You can if you like,’ she said, ‘but it would worry me very much.’
Charles subsided into his book again for a little, but presently put it down.
‘What about your work at Keeling’s to-morrow night?’ he said, ‘if I’m not fit to come out? You can’t very well go up there alone, can you?’
Norah paused before she answered.