He blushed a little.
"Good-bye," he said gruffly.
"Good-bye," I laughed; "but you might tell me before you go whether you think I am any better or worse. You'll remember you came over to see me—perhaps?"
He couldn't help laughing too.
"I'm awfully sorry. You see, the telegram came just after my arrival."
"You needn't be, there's nothing fresh to report."
"Still tired?" he asked very gently.
"Still tired and waiting for a fresh breeze to blow. I think I shall be better then, Doctor."
"God grant that it may be so." He raised my hand to his lips. "You are a staunch friend, Marguerite."
"Take care," I said, my eyes suddenly filling, "Dimbie is watching, and he is in a bit of a temper. You will be coming on Thursday, and good luck to you."