"Freezing," answered Char, with a violent shiver.
"Better go to bed," said the doctor, without looking at her, as he went upstairs.
Char, still in her fur coat, hung over the fire.
"Tell me what's happened, Johnnie."
"Cousin Joanna says that he was very restless and low-spirited last night—talked about the war, you know, and this last air-raid. And when he came down this morning he suddenly turned giddy and fell across the hall sofa. Luckily it wasn't on the floor. Cousin Joanna was with him, and they got him flat on the sofa, and sent for Clark. I got here about the same time as he did, by pure chance—came over for a day's shooting, you know—and between us we carried him upstairs. By Jove! he's no light weight for a man of his years, either."
"What does Dr. Clark think?"
"That he'll probably recover consciousness in a day or two. But even then—don't be frightened, Char; it's only what generally happens in these cases—his—his words probably won't come quite right, you know. He may speak, but not quite normally."
Char smiled a little at her cousin's look of anxious solicitude for the effect of his surmises upon her.
"I'm not without hospital experience, you know," she said gently. "It's the left side of the brain, then? Is his right side paralyzed?"
"I'm afraid so—arm and hand, you know. We shall see what Prince says."