"Really? Really?" choked Tussie, putting the other lean hot hand over hers and burning all the coolness out of it.
The nurse looked still more disapproving. She had not heard Sir Augustus had a fiancée, and even if he had this was no time for philandering. She too had noticed the voice in which he had said Oh mother, and she saw by his eyes that his temperature had gone up. Who was this shabby young lady? She felt sure that no one so shabby could be his fiancée, and she could only conclude that Lady Shuttleworth must be mad.
"Nurse, I'm going to stay here a little," said Lady Shuttleworth. "I'll call you when I want you."
"I think, madam, Sir Augustus ought not—" began the nurse.
"No, no, he shall not. Go and have forty winks, nurse."
And the nurse had to go; people generally did when Lady Shuttleworth sent them.
"Sit down—no don't—stay a moment like this," said Tussie, his breath coming in little jerks,—"unless you are tired? Did you walk?"
"I'm afraid you are very ill," said Priscilla, leaving her hand in his and looking down at him with a face that all her efforts could not induce to smile.
"Oh I'll be all right soon. How good of you to come. You've not been hungry since?"
"No, no," said Priscilla, stroking his hands with her free hand and giving them soothing pats as one would to a sick child.