Wareham told him, adding, “I’ll be there or in the salon.”
“You’d better look in, and see my wife and Miss Dalrymple,” suggested Colonel Martyn, flinging open the door. “Any one here? No—I suppose they’ve gone to rest, women always make out they’re tired with doing nothing. Well, we shall meet by and by.”
Wareham acquiesced, and went off to solitude. Before long a nurse tapped at his door. Mr Forbes had called for him so often, the doctor thought he should come, under strict injunctions of quiet. He found him restless and wandering, and as his presence seemed to give a certain ease, remained there until late, when he went down for a solitary meal. The dining saal was deserted, but he was provided with a small table by the window, and with what could hastily be heated again. He had drunk his coffee, and was thinking of returning to Hugh, when there was a rustle of silk in the doorway, and there stood Anne Dalrymple.
Chapter Nineteen.
Will She Leave Him?
“Have you finished? Am I disturbing you?”
Wareham sprang up.
“I believed I was never to see you.”