"Yes; shall I hold your—your hand?"
"But you are not going to take me away?"
"No, indeed, I am not."
"Then if you are cool, you may hold my hand. You remind me of someone—I don't know who. A good person. I do so loathe good people; but then you are not a person at all. You are an angel. Angel, send those nurses away and hold my hand."
Maureen beckoned to the two women, who retired behind a screen in a corner of the room.
Maureen had extraordinary sympathy in her hand. Some people have that gift, and it is very remarkable. It quiets better than any drug; it soothes beyond any medicine which has ever yet been invented.
The girl, who had been tossing impatiently from side to side, began, slowly and impatiently at first, but after a time quite perceptibly, to feel the influence of the little hand. Then the two hands were placed over hers and she gave a deep sigh of relief.
"I'm better, I think," she said. "I'll soon be all right again, and ready to punch Pinchin and Maureen and all my enemies. I couldn't eat, you know; that's why I flopped down like this. Angel, will you stay with me?"
"Yes."