“Now, go up-stairs and lie down, dear,” said Marian. “You’re worn out. I’ll send your lunch up to you. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll manage.”
“There’s Mavis Borrowby shut up in the closet,” he told her wearily; “and Mrs. Hamilton—and something worrying about Miss Franklin—I’ve forgotten just what.”
“Poor boy!” she murmured. “I’m so sorry! Go on, dear, and lie down. Try not to worry.”
He went up-stairs to his room and lay down on the bed, quite exhausted, trying to think, but unable to do so. A long time passed. He watched the trees moving in[Pg 13] the April wind, and the clouds slipping across the gay blue sky.
VIII
At last Marian came, bringing a lunch-tray well laden with the proper things. She set it down on a table at the bedside, and drew up two chairs.
“Now, Andy dear!” she said in her old pleasant way. “Come on! You need food, you know. It’s after three o’clock!”
He was really very hungry. He began to eat without delay, while Marian watched him indulgently.
“I telephoned to Dr. Gryce. He’ll take your patients to-day,” she said. “You need a rest, don’t you? Miss Franklin’s gone home. Mr. Borrowby took Mavis home, and left a note, apologizing for his mistake. I explained to him about your theories, you know. I sent for Mr. Hamilton, and I stayed with his wife until he came. They had a perfectly beautiful reconciliation. They’re going out to Wyoming with the children, to start a new life; so there’s nothing to trouble you, is there?”
“Marian,” he said gravely, “I’ll tell you all about it later on. Just now I can’t think of anything but the relief—”