"Look here, my sister!" he said, plucking impatiently at her demure sleeve, and even in my semi-consciousness I smiled at the sound of the words from his cockney lips.
"Well?" she answered, turning her unruffled glance upon him.
Sander lowered his voice and talked hurriedly in her ear. But she only shook her head. How small the things of this world are to those who look with honest eyes beyond it!
"Well, I must tell him—there!" exclaimed Sander, angrily, and he made a step towards the bed. But she laid her hand on his arm and held him. It was a queer picture.
"Let me go," he said. "I know best."
Her face flushed suddenly, and the nun stood before the detective.
"No," she replied quietly, "you do not know best. I am mistress here. Will you kindly go?"
She went to the door and held it open for him, her actions and words belying the meek demeanour which belongs to her calling, and which she never laid aside for a moment.
So with a hopeless mien Sander left the room, and my nurse came towards the bed.
"That," she said, softly, "is a very stupid man."