“That’s what I want.”
Then she turned away as he went to wrap them for her. She felt a sudden swelling of the heart, as she faced Richmond Briarley.
“How do you do, Miss Powel,” he said in acknowledgment of her recognition.
“I have quite lost track of you since our friend Andrews has been ill. You’ll be glad to know his doctor now thinks he may pull through.”
“Mr. Glenn ill—dangerously ill?” She was white to the lips.
The look on her face he would never forget while he lived.
“Where? Where?” she said, eagerly clasping her hands. “Let me go to him.”
“He has someone—you can do nothing. She does everything.”
He said very little beyond the bare statement, but his answer added to the pain of her wound.
There was nothing she could do. This was the bitterest, cruelest thought—she was not needed—she who would have died to spare him pain.