The doctor gat up with something very like a scowl on his face and went to the window. Even in the Presence he had to close his mouth firmly lest the lava should break out.
He hated to be beaten in the fight--the endless fight to which his whole life was given, year in, year out. But this had been no fair fight. The battle was lost before he came on the field, and his resentment was hot against whoever was to blame.
He opened the casement and leaned out to cool his head. The sweet morning air was like a kiss. He drank in a big breath or two, and, after another pained look at the white face on the pillow, he turned and left the room. The girl had already gone, and as she went down the passage there was a gleam in her eyes.
Her mother saw it as soon as she entered the kitchen. "Well?" asked the old woman.
"She's gone."
"And yo're glad of it. Shame on yo', girl! And yo' but just safe through it yoreself!"
The girl made no reply, and a moment later the doctor came in.
"Now, Mrs. Lee, explain things to me. Whose infernal folly brought that poor thing rattling over the country in that condition? And get me a cup of coffee, will you? Child all right?"
"He's all right, doctor. He's sleeping quiet there"--pointing to a heap of shawls on the hearth. "It were Sir Denzil himself brought her last night."
"And why didn't he stop to see the result of his damned stupidity? It's sheer murder, nothing less. Make it as strong as you can,"--referring to the coffee--"my head's buzzing. I haven't had a minute's rest for twenty-four hours. Where is Sir Denzil? He left word at my house to come over here first thing this morning. I expected to find him here."