"To Covington. She's Covington's wife. They were married a few weeks ago in Paris. You understand? She's Covington's wife." His voice rose a trifle.
"Peter—you 're sure of that?"
"She told me so herself—less than an hour ago."
"That's impossible. Why, she listened to me when—"
"When what?" he cut in.
Frightened, she clasped her hands beneath her chin.
His eyes demanded a reply.
"I—I told her what the doctors told me. Don't look at me so, Peter!"
"You tried to win her sympathy for me?"
"They told me if you stopped worrying, your sight would come back. I told her that, Peter."