"Of course--of course I want him to have--every chance. I am not so selfish as that. But--but--the anxiety will be very hard to bear. I dread it more than I can possibly say."
Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still desperately making stitches that she could hardly see. She had not meant to make any appeal for sympathy. It had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment. She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake's presence than she felt that night.
He did not immediately respond though she knew that he continued to watch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. But after a very decided pause, his hand, square and steady, came forth and stopped her fevered working.
"Sit still for a bit, my girl!" he said. "Give yourself a rest!"
She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, suffering him to draw the work from her hands.
"Say, now," he said, "when you married me, I made myself a vow that you shouldn't be burdened any more beyond your strength. This anxiety you speak of, will it be harder to bear than to see Bunny suffering and not be able to help?"
She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears.
"Guess you're overwrought," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down on the sofa? P'raps you'd get a sleep."
She mastered herself with an effort. "No, thank you. I am quite all right. Of course Bunny's welfare comes before everything and always will with me. Do you know, I think I will run up to him and see that he has all he wants."
"No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!" said Jake. "I've got him in hand. Don't you go making more trouble!"