“My dear——”
“You must think I am awfully silly.” She could only just speak.
“You poor thing—of course I don’t. Perhaps a glass of water——”
Mrs. Hilary shook her head violently—far too violently for so ill a woman.
“I’ll get Dr. Latham.”
“Please don’t,” the invalid said sharply, and then, “I’m not well enough to see a doctor,” she wailed.
“But I’m worried about you, Angela.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only the pain, the pain and the faintness, the horrid faintness. If only I had some smelling salts,” she moaned.
“There are some in my dressing-case,” Helen said quickly. “I’ll ring.”
“Oh no, no, you mustn’t!” Mrs. Hilary cried. “I—I—can’t let Barker see me like this. No, no! Don’t do that. Couldn’t you get them yourself, dear? Couldn’t you? Do you mind?”