“Oh! lungs or liver or something. I don’t know.”
“What are you taking, Dick?”
“I tell you I can’t take anything,” he said, misunderstanding her. “It makes me sick to eat. Every time I try to eat anything I feel a lot worse for it.”
“When did you try last?”
“Oh, yesterday some time. Now what in the name of sense makes a woman shed tears at a simple statement like that? I’m not in shape 305 to stand this. Once and for all, Nancy, will you get out and leave me? I tell you I never wanted to see you less in my life. I’ll write you a letter and apologize if you’ll only go, now.”
“Oh, I’ll go,” Nancy said. “I couldn’t really believe that you wanted me to,—that’s all.”
She started for the door—but Dick, weakened by lack of food, tortured beyond his endurance by the sudden assault on his nerves made by Nancy’s appearance, gave way to his relief at her going an instant too soon. Like a small boy in pain he crooked his elbow and covered his face with his arm.
Nancy ran to him and knelt at his side, taking his head on her breast.
“Dear,” she said, “you do want me. We want each other. You love me, Dicky, and I am going to love you—if you’ll only let me look after you and nurse you back to health again.”
“I don’t want to be nursed,” Dick blubbered, his head buried in her bosom, “I want to look out for you, and take care of you, and—and now look at me. You’ll never love me after this, Nancy.”