He preceded her up the wide stairs where he might have walked beside her, not pausing for an instant till he stood at Olga's door.
"Go straight in," he said then. "She is expecting you. Tell her, if she wants to know, that I am coming directly."
He passed on swiftly with the words, and disappeared into a room close by.
Very softly Muriel turned the door-handle and entered. Olga's voice greeted her before she was well in the room. It sounded husky and strained.
"Muriel! Dear Muriel! I'm so glad you've come. I've wanted you so you can't think. Where's Nick?"
"He is coming, dearest." Muriel went forward to the bed, and took in hers the two hands eagerly extended.
The child was lying in an uneasy position, her hair streaming in a disordered tangle about her flushed face. She was shivering violently though the hands Muriel held were burning. "You came all through this awful storm," she whispered. "It was lovely of you, dear. I hope you weren't frightened."
Muriel sat down beside her. "And you have been left all alone," she said.
"I didn't mind," gasped Olga. "Mrs. Ellis—that's the cook—was here at first. But she was such an ass about the thunder that I sent her away. I expect she's in the coal cellar."
A gleam of fun shone for an instant in her eyes, and was gone. The fevered hands closed tightly in Muriel's hold. "I feel so ill," she murmured, "so ill."