He was watching her intently, and was satisfied.
"I wish," he said, putting the cup down on the table beside the bed, "I wish you knew her better."
"I will call upon her," said Miss Hancock, counting her stitches; "she left her parasol behind her last night, I will take it back to her——"
"No, don't, for goodness sake!" said James, the Lambert ménage rising before him, and also a vague dread that his sister, despite her appearance and words of goodwill—or rather semi-goodwill—might be traitorously disposed at heart. "At least—I don't know—I suppose it would be the right thing to do."
"I am not especially anxious to call," said Miss Hancock, who had quite made up her mind to journey to Highgate on the morrow and spy out the land of the Lamberts for herself. "In fact, the only possible day I could call would be to-morrow before noon. I have a meeting in Sloane Square to attend at five, and on Wednesday I have three engagements, two on Thursday; Friday I have to spend the day with Aunt Catherine at Windsor, where I will remain over Sunday."
"Well, call to-morrow and bring her back her parasol—oh, damn!"
"James!"
"Oh Lord! I thought some one had shot a bullet into my foot. Give me the medicine, quick, and send round for Carter. I must have some opium, or I won't sleep a wink."
Miss Hancock administered the dose, and retired downstairs, when she sent a message to Dr Carter and ordered the lilac parasol of Miss Lambert to be wrapped in paper. Then she sent a message to the livery stables to order the hired brougham, which she employed several times a week, to be in attendance at 9.30 the following morning, to drive her to Highgate.
But next morning her brother was so bad that she could not leave him. But she called one morning later on.