She did not see his offered hands. "It's Notya, again, George, please." She had a glimpse of Mrs. Biggs peering between window curtains, and her tongue tripped over the next words. "S-so will you—can you be very quick?"
"The doctor?"
"Yes. Dr. Mackenzie is away, but there's another there, and he must come."
He nodded, and he did not see her go, for he was in the stable harnessing the horse and shouting to a man to get the cart.
"You've got to drive to town like hell, William, and the sooner you bring the doctor the better for you."
"I'll have to change my clothes."
"You'll go as you are, God damn you, and you'll go now."
He waited until the cart was bowling towards the road before he followed Helen so swiftly that he saw her dress whisk through the garden door. He used no ceremony and he found her in the kitchen, where Miriam was sitting stiffly on a chair, her feet on one of its rungs, her neck and shoulders cream-coloured above the whiteness of her under-linen. He hardly looked at her and he did not know whether she went or stayed. He spoke to Helen:
"Do you want me to carry her upstairs? William's gone to town. I've come to help you."
"Then you've spoilt the game, George. It's always you who go to town and bring the doctor. Never mind. Yes. Carry her up. Don't step on the rolling-pin." She looked at it again. "She's not dead, is she?"