"And you owe me nothing at all, you would say. I might controvert that. But no matter; we have passed the Saturday and have come to the Wednesday. Where is Norman? Hasn't he been here?"
"He has been with you almost constantly from the first. He was here less than an hour ago."
"Where is he now?"
She hesitated. "There is urgency of some kind in your business affairs. Your father spent the night in South Tredegar; and a little while ago he telephoned for Mr. Norman—from the iron-works, I think." She had moved away again, and her hand was on the door-knob.
He raised himself on one elbow.
"You are in a desperate hurry, aren't you?" he gritted; though the teeth-grinding was from the pain it cost him to move. "Would you mind handing me that desk telephone before you go?"
She came back and tried it, but the wired cord was not long enough to reach to the bed.
"If you wish to speak to some one, perhaps I could do it for you," she suggested, quite in the trained-nurse tone.
His smile was a mere grimace of torture.
"If you could stretch your good-will to—to my mother—that far," he said. "Please call my office—number five-twenty-six G—and ask for Mr. Norman."