"She is in bed," Hilda answered, seeing he had heard the whole story.
"No," as he turned inwards, "you can't see her. Indeed you mustn't, Jack.
The doctor says—"
"Damn the doctor!" said Jack. "I'm going to see her, in bed or not. Where is she?"
He was half-way upstairs with the words, and Hilda's protest fell upon empty air. She could only follow and look on.
Jack opened the first door he came to, and found himself in Chris's presence. He strode straight across the room, as one who had a perfect right, stooped over her as she lay, and gathered her up into his arms.
"My little sweetheart!" he said, and kissed her fiercely over and over again.
That woke her from her lethargy, as no more tender ministrations could have done. She wound her arms about his neck, and clung to him like a lost child.
"Oh, Jack!" she said. "Oh, Jack!" and burst into an agony of tears.
Hilda closed the door softly, and went away. Jack's treatment seemed the best, after all.
When she saw him again he was quite calm, but there was about him a grimness of purpose with which she was not familiar. He drew her aside.
"Look here! I can't sleep on this. I'm going to see Trevor—at once. If I don't bring him to reason, I shall probably shoot him; but I haven't told her that. All she wants is to be left in peace, and peace she shall have, whatever the cost."