"At once, by all means," said Stephen grimly.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
A QUIET HOUR
When the journey was over and the offices inspected, Stephen sat in his room. Fetzer, controlling her emotions in his presence, had gone to the third story both to rejoice and to weep; Miss MacVane and Miss Knowlton, moving about the office, worked with shining eyes. Stephen had promised to see a few patients to-morrow; life would be, Miss MacVane expected, if there was to be any change, happier. Miss Knowlton did not put into words what she expected. Neither thought of Ellen Levis; their household was complete.
The storm in the night had given the park a springlike greenness. The river from Stephen's room was blue, with tiniest silver ripples. A soft breeze stirred the curtains gently and a cool green light filled the pleasant room. The familiar walls rested his eyes; though he had known little but misery in this house, he loved its stateliness and it was now a safe haven. He had begun to be curious about what had been said and done in the medical world in his absence. He had not forgotten the quest upon which he intended to go when he should be wholly relieved from espionage. In the meantime, he thought, drowsily and childishly, it was sufficient to be quiescent and humble. He believed that he should never see Ellen nor desire greatly to see her.
Then he opened his eyes at a slight sound. Ellen was at hand; she had crossed the street and her familiar figure which had a moment ago startled the women in the office approached his door, though Miss Knowlton had directed her with lofty kindness to Fetzer's room.
"She'll take you to see the doctor," Miss Knowlton promised.
"Is he still ill?" Ellen asked, astonished.
"He's not entirely well." Miss Knowlton spoke as though he were her child. "But he'll see you, I'm sure."