"Ah," said Pentland, sadly; "like all consumptives, he is too hopeful."
Leah became nervous and anxious. Had Jim been obliterated at last? "What is it?" she demanded irritably. "Is he--is he?" her tongue could not form the lying word.
"Worse--yes, much worse," said the Duke, rubbing his forehead and producing a letter. "This is from Demetrius. We may expect--oh, my poor son!" and he almost broke down.
"I don't trust these doctors," remarked Lady Jim, skimming the letter with a feeling that Demetrius was really too imaginative. "They always shout wolf, when the animal is miles away. Don't worry."
"But you see, Demetrius says that poor Jim may go off at any moment--and Demetrius is a clever man."
"He may be mistaken. I have heard of surprising recoveries."
Pentland shook his head, and groaned. "Not Jim. I had a conviction that I should never see him again when we parted in this very room."
"It's absurd!" argued Leah, artfully. "Jim was quite well till he caught that stupid cold at Firmingham. Why should he go off suddenly?"
"What they call galloping consumption is----"
"I can't believe it. Nothing would surprise me more than to hear of Jim's death;" and she soothed her conscience with the reflection that this speech was perfectly true, considering Jim had the strength of a bull and the appetite of a shark.