He breathed more freely than he had for weeks; more freely than since the receipt of that brief despatch:—"F. is dead," and the initials H. R. So far from having used a sling and a smooth stone from the brook, the boy had been a veritable armor-bearer to the giant! Well; poor Nelly! From her point of view, it was of course a great disappointment. He hated to have her unhappy; he hated to see suffering; he wished they could get through this confounded interview. His sidewise, uneasy glance at her tense figure, betrayed his discomfort at the sight of pain. What a pity she had aged so, and that her hands had grown so thin. But she had her old charm yet; certainly she was still an exquisite creature in some ways—and she had not grown too fat. He had been afraid once that she would get fat. How white her neck was; it was like swan's-down where the lace fell open in the front of her dress. For a moment he forgot his prudent resolutions; he put his arm around her and bent his head to touch her throat with his lips.
But she pushed him away with a flaming look. "David saves you, does he?
Well; he will save me!"
Without another word she left him, as she had left him once before, alone in the long parlor with the faintly snapping fire, and the darkness pressing against the uncurtained windows. This time he did not follow her to plead outside her closed door. There was a moment's hesitation, then he shook his head, and took a fresh cigar.
"No," he said, "it's better this way."
CHAPTER XXVIII
"If it was me that was doin' it," said Sarah, "I'd send for the doctor."
"Well, but," Maggie protested, "she might be mad."
"If it was me, I'd let her be mad."
"Well, then, why don't you?" Maggie retorted.
"Send for him?" Sarah said airily impersonal. "Oh, it's none of my business."