"There's the doctor—ask him."
The stranger turned eagerly.
"This is not serious, I trust. She was always delicate, but—it is wonderful how she pulls together when the worst is over."
For almost the first time in his life John Chetwynd was tongue-tied.
Who and what was this man, and what was he to Bella? He forced himself to give a professional opinion, and answered mechanically a string of questions Mr. Bolingbroke poured forth, but he hardly knew what he was saying.
"If only she gets over this she shall never be bothered any more, poor darling," he said brokenly. "I suppose I can go in, eh?"
His hand was on the door—John Chetwynd sprang to his feet.
"No one must see her," he cried excitedly. "I absolutely forbid it. It would be most dangerous—most improper."
The two men looked into each other's faces for the space of several seconds; then Mr. Bolingbroke turned away with a sigh and an impatient word. "Absurd! As if I could do her any harm," he said. "Well, I will be round again later in the day," he added with a nod to Saidie, and a minute later the hall door shut upon him.
"Who is that man?" asked Sir John sternly.