“Disgraceful, but I did. Reaction, no doubt. Where’s Elsie?”
He answered evasively. “She’s rather tired. No doubt she’ll be over later.”
“She’s angry with me because she thinks I shot Eustace on purpose. I never knew Elsie to be unreasonable before.”
“Oh—I’m sure she can’t think that! But she’s very sensitive under that calm exterior, and she had a bad shock last night. I suppose you haven’t seen my patient?”
“Nurse said I couldn’t.”
“She must get some sleep as the other nurse can’t be here before night. Perhaps you’ll sit with him for a few hours?”
Gita turned pale, but answered steadily: “Certainly, if you think he can stand having me near him. He probably knows it was I who shot him—might feel a trifle nervous.”
Dr. Pelham smiled for the first time. “I’ll put him to sleep again.” And he nodded and ran up the stair.
Gita wandered about the garden until he came down, but she thought neither of him nor of Eustace, but of Elsie. She must win her back. Life would be unendurable without Elsie. Of course she was in love with Eustace. Well, here was her chance. She could stay here, and read to him when he was better, correct his proofs, take his dictation if he felt inspired to write a story. . . . Ideal marriage. . . . Why had he been so blind?
“Idiots, all of us.” And she sighed.