If Sonya, when she entered the sick-room, was shocked by the change in the appearance of her new friend, she showed no sign of it. Sitting down beside the chaise longue, she entered briskly upon a description of the recent experiences of Samuel. When she left the hospital the house surgeon was obediently endeavoring to look down the throat of Hullen R. J., and every nurse on Samuel's floor was scuttering in and out of his room. Nevertheless the Infant, though graciously accepting these attentions, had demanded and received Sonya's personal assurance that the particular game of the morning was not to be repeated. There was an unpleasant element in that game which grown-ups might not notice but which he, Samuel, had caught on to.
Louise laughed and expressed a hope that Samuel would now be able to breathe without disturbing his neighbors. Sonya came to the real purpose of her visit.
"He and his mother are going back to Devon House Saturday," she said, "but I've got to stay in New York for a few months, on account of my literary galumphings. I wondered if you—if it would be convenient for you—to put me up. I hate hotels and—"
Louise lay silent for a moment. Then she reached out and took Sonya's hand.
"Yes, you unskilful prevaricator," she said. "You may come—and see me through."
Sonya held the hand tightly in her own.
"There's one thing more," she went on, hesitatingly. "Laurie and Mr. Bangs and I wondered if perhaps you wouldn't feel more comfortable if Mr. Warren came home. You know he himself would want to—"
Louise closed her eyes.
"Yes," she said, "Bob would want to, if he knew."
She was silent for so long that Sonya began to think she was not to have the answer to her question. Perhaps Mrs. Ordway was leaving the decision to her.