But he would not loose her hand.
“Will you?” he said.
She moved to put her arm round his neck, then remembered and shrank back.
“Why, there is nothing,” she said; “it was you to forgive me—if you do I am more than glad; now do go, old fellow.”
“Lie down,” he said, standing up again; it had only just struck him he might be doing her harm.
“There, lie so,—keep still, for heaven’s sake. I only came to tell you you’re the best sister on earth, and I’ve been a brute to you. Meg, I’ll promise you faithfully never to think of Mabelle again—oh, good God! I haven’t made you worse, have I?” For Meg put her hand up to her head with a sudden movement.
“Not an atom,” she said, “the cloth was wetting my neck, that’s all,—you’ve made me better indeed with that promise; now go, Pip dearest, this minute, and change everything—promise me; think of the [265] ]children; get a suit out of your room and have a bath.”
The nurse’s step was on the stairs; he kissed her hand again and fled.
Afterwards he felt he had done a selfish thing, and made himself miserable over it. Perhaps he had excited and worried her, perhaps it would make her worse; and suppose he gave the infection to Peter or Poppet!
He took his evening clothes, they were the only ones left in his room, and he went down to the river with a slow and heavy step.