"Now, try to relax and sleep a while," she suggested.
"Is that an order?" he said faintly.
"An order," she answered, dropping her hand on his forehead and smoothing it with deft touch.
He smiled up at her,—and closed his eyes—and presently he slept.
* * * * * * *
Stephanie, when she left the Hospital, went on to the shopping district.
It was the first time she had been down town since the day before Lorraine's accident—and she very quickly noticed the difference in the attitude of many that she knew and met. There was a more manifest cordiality, slight in some cases, more open in others, but unmistakable nevertheless. More people looked at her in a friendly way, and would have spoken had she given them the chance. But she never saw them, or looked right through them—depending upon whether hitherto they had been negative or positive in their hostility. From all those who had spoken heretofore, she accepted the additional smile or word of greeting—from all those with whom it was an initial effort she declined the overtures.
Mrs. Postlewaite passed down the aisle just as Stephanie was turning away from the glove counter, and the grande dame relaxed sufficiently to glance at her in a personal way and to give her the chance to return the glance—her manner even indicating that, if Stephanie were brave enough to speak, she might condescend to acknowledge it with the faintest nod. It was plainly a look of permission—but Stephanie never looked; though taking due care to let Mrs. Postlewaite know that she saw. And the ancient lady's face congealed into impassivity—and they went their respective ways.