‘I am a hard worker. One is impossible without the other. Good-night, Mr. Chicot; I congratulate you upon your power to take a great trouble quietly. There is no better proof of strong nerve.’
Jack fancied there was a hidden sneer in this parting compliment, but it made very little impression upon him. The perplexity of his life was big enough to exclude every other thought. ‘You had better go to bed, Mrs. Mason,’ he said to the nurse. ‘I shall sit up with my wife.’
‘I beg your pardon, sir, I could not feel that I was doing my duty if I indulged myself with a night’s rest while the case is so critical; by-and-by I shall be thankful to get an hour’s sleep.’
‘Do you think Madame Chicot will ever be better?’
The nurse looked down at her white apron, sighed gently, and as gently shook her head.
‘We always like to look at the bright side of things, sir,’ she answered.
‘But is there any bright side to this case?’
‘That rests with Providence, sir. It is a very bad case.’
‘Well,’ said Jack Chicot, ‘we must be patient.’
He seated himself in the chair by the bedside and remained there all night, never sleeping, hardly changing his attitude, sunk to the bottom of some deep gulf of thought.