"I can't go until you feel better, Mrs. Richie."
She was silent. Then she turned a little, gathering up the two long braids so that they fell on each side of her neck and down across her breast; their soft darkness made the pallor of her face more marked. She was so evidently exhausted that when Sarah brought the coffee, the doctor slipped his hand under her shoulders and lifted her while she drank it.
"Don't try to talk; I want you to sleep."
"Sleep! I can't sleep."
"You will," he assured her.
She lay back on her pillows, and for the first time she looked at him.
"Dr. King, he has quarrelled with me."
William flinched, as though some wound had been touched; then he said,
"Don't talk of it now."
She turned her face sharply away from him, burying it in her pillow.
"Mrs. Richie, you must try to eat something. See, Maggie has sent you some very nice toast."
"I won't eat. I wish you would go."