“Yes, yes!” Janice declared. “Do lie down.”
“You tell her I’ve just got to speak to her. I’ve got to!” went on the hoarse voice, wildly.
Janice feared he would awaken Mrs. Beasely. He would not lie down.
“Yes,” she promised him. “I’ll get her to come and see you. You—you mean Annette, don’t you?”
The name did not seem to catch his ear, and he kept muttering that he “must see her.”
“She shall come, Nelson,” Janice promised again, her own voice broken. “You mean you want to see Annette?”
“Annette? Yes—Annette,” he muttered. “Poor Annette—and—and——”
He allowed her to replace his head upon the pillow. His words faded into incomprehensible murmurings. His eyes closed. He seemed to breathe more easily and regularly.
Janice tiptoed away from the bed. Nelson seemed appeased and relieved when she had promised to bring Annette to his bedside. The girl experienced a pang that hurt her physically. She could feel her heart throbbing under the hand with which she attempted to still it.
There must be a serious attachment between Nelson and Annette. Otherwise, it seemed to her, he would not be worrying about the city girl when he was delirious. Janice’s experience with seriously ill people had been very limited indeed.