“Asleep, miss?” she said.
Lydia raised her white face, haggard and livid with sleeplessness and anxiety.
“No,” she said softly, as she let herself sink into the low chair at the bed’s head. “No, not asleep.”
“But you are quite done up, miss,” said the nurse. “Now, pray do go and lie down for a few hours. He is better, I’m sure of it. I do know, indeed. I’ve seen so much of this sort of thing. I was in the French hospitals all through the war.”
“But, are you sure?”
“I’m quite certain, miss. Now, you can’t go on like this. You must have rest. Take my advice, and go and have a good sleep, and then you can come and watch again.”
“But if—”
“If anything happens, miss, I’ll call you.”
“You promise me?”
“Faithfully, miss. There, trust to me.”