She was holding her side with both hands.
“I believe the pain is coming on again.”
“Oh; no, it isn’t.” But he moved nearer to her. No contradiction or denial warded off the attack. She bore it badly too, pulse and colour evidencing her collapse. Hurriedly and perhaps without sufficient thought he rang for Stevens, called for hot water, gave her her first injection of morphia.
Stevens knew or guessed what had been going on, and took a gloomy view. Every one in the house knew of Mrs. Roope’s visit.
“It will be the death of her.”
“No, it won’t,” he said savagely. “You do what you are told.”
“I ’ope I know my duty,” she replied primly.
“I’m sure you do, but not the effect of a morphia injection,” he retorted.
He said Stevens knew nothing of the effect of a morphia injection, but he was not quite sure of it himself in those days and with such a patient. The immediate effect was instantaneous. Margaret grew easier, she smiled at him with her pale lips:
“How wonderful,” she said. He made her stay as she was for half an hour, then helped to carry her to bed. Stevens said she required no help in undressing her.