“James,” said Geoffrey to the servant, “send the cook up here—she is a sensible woman; and do you take a hansom and drive to the doctor, and tell him to come here at once, and if you cannot find him go for another doctor. Then go to the Nurses’ Home, near St. James’ Station, and get a trained nurse—tell them one must be had from somewhere instantly.”
“Yes, sir. And shall I call for her ladyship at the duchess’s, sir?”
“No,” he answered, frowning heavily, “do not disturb her ladyship. Go now.”
“That settles it,” said Geoffrey, as the man went. “Whatever happens, Honoria and I must part. I have done with her.”
He had indeed, though not in the way he meant. It would have been well for Honoria if her husband’s contempt had not prevented him from summoning her from her pleasure.
The cook came up, and between them they brought the child back to life.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Is that you, daddy,” she whispered, “or do I dreams?”
“Yes, dear, it is I.”
“Where has you been, daddy—to see Auntie Beatrice?”
“Yes, love,” he said, with a gasp.