“He’s rather peevish to-day,” he explained excusingly. “He gets weary of lying there with nothing to do, and it makes him irritable. Not that he said anything unkind about the flowers... He—he didn’t appear to notice them.”
She nodded.
“I know,” she said.
That day the doctor removed his veto.
“There is no reason why you shouldn’t visit your husband now, Mrs Lawless,” he informed her, “if you are careful not to excite him, nor stay long in the room.”
She looked at him for a while thoughtfully, and a soft rose crept into her cheeks.
“Since he is so far recovered,” she answered quietly, “I think I will not risk retarding his progress—unless he asks for me.”
On the following day she gathered her flowers as before, and sent them by her trusty messenger.
“He has got to look at them this morning,” she announced as she gave them into his hands. “Take them to the bedside, and just say, ‘Zoë sends them.’”
Mr Burton quite blushed at the idea of taking such a liberty with her name; but he seized the flowers and departed hastily upon his errand, with many misgivings as to the reception that would be accorded him when he presented this remarkable message to the invalid.