The servant, evidently having heard his master's step, entered with fresh tea and toast.
"Is she better?"
As the boy set the tray down he replied hesitatingly, "No, Sahib, she is still groaning."
"You fool, don't you suppose I can hear that? She has groaned incessantly since last night."
"What can I do?" The man asked the question of himself as he turned half around towards the veranda door.
"Won't the Sahib have some tea?" suggested the boy timidly, for like every native-born this man feared his stalwart English master.
Blackmore-Sahib held out his hand without turning back from the door. "Yes, I will take a cup. Perhaps it will steady me a bit."
"Poor little Nona!" he sighed as he took the cup.
He gulped down the tea hurriedly and reached for a cigarette. But as his eyes fell on the clumsy ones in the saucer, they filled with tears and he walked quickly out upon the veranda without taking one.