“Wait and see.”
“Wait and see? I’m sick of it all,” he cried, angrily. “I feel as if I were buried alive, and to make matters worse, you’re always away. Look here, I don’t like your going and nursing that fellow.”
“You stupid boy!” she said softly; and she turned upon him a look that made him catch her in his arms and press his lips to hers.
For a few moments she made no resistance, but seemed to be returning his caress. Then, with an angry wrench, she extricated herself from his grasp.
“How dare you!” she cried.
“How dare? Oh, come, that’s good.”
“You are acting like a fool!”
She sailed out of the room just as Preenham opened the door, and as he drew back for her to pass, Artis threw himself into a chair, while Katrine slowly ascended the stairs, listening intently to the low murmur of voices in the library.
A few minutes before, the quiet, grave-looking professional nurse had ascended to the sick room from the housekeeper’s room, where she had just partaken of her dinner, and found, as she entered, silently, Lydia on her knees by the bedside, with a straight bar of light from the window throwing her into bold relief against the dark curtains.
The nurse advanced softly, and glanced at Capel, who seemed to be sleeping easily, and then lightly touched Lydia on the shoulder.