She groped for the glass he held towards her, but trembled so much that she could not take it.
"Let me," he said, and put it himself to her lips.
She drank slowly, shuddering, her teeth chattering against the glass.
"Lay your head down upon the cushion," he said then, "and shut your eyes.
You will be better soon."
"You—you won't go?" she managed to whisper.
"Why, no," he said. "It's for your sake I've come. I guess I'm a fixture for so long as you want me."
She breathed a sigh of relief and lay back.
A long time passed. Anne lay motionless with closed eyes, too crushed for thought. And Lucas Errol watched beside her, grave and patient and still.
Suddenly there came a sound, piercing the silence, a sound that made Anne start upright in wild terror.
"What is it? What is it?"