“Thank you, sir.”
“My dear Mr Elthorne, I wish I could hold out hopes of an ultimate recovery of the use of your limbs, but, with a man like you, a frank, open statement is best. You know the worst, and you can get over the difficulties. I can say no more, unless I deliver a eulogy upon your son’s skill.”
“Don’t do that,” said the invalid grimly; “he is conceited enough already.”
“Then I will leave you now and ask for a little refreshment. I have had nothing but a cup of tea since my dinner last evening.”
He rose, shook hands, and then turned to Nurse Elisia.
“I miss you sadly, nurse, but I suppose you cannot be spared for the present.”
“Spared?” cried Elthorne quickly. “No, no; certainly not.”
“But I want her in my ward, Mr Elthorne,” said Sir Denton, smiling.
“Yes, after a time. But not yet. I am so helpless at present.”
“Well, well, we shall see,” said Sir Denton pleasantly. “It is mutually satisfactory. Nurse was suffering from our close London hospital air, and overworked. The change here has worked wonders. Good-bye, Mr Elthorne. I congratulate you upon the skill your son has shown.”