Floyd’s anguish was terrible; he was leaning against the door on the verge of a collapse. Mary signaled the doctor, who took him by the arm and led him into the next room.
“Is it Martin Steele?” said the doctor.
“Send for him.”
“I will not. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Floyd’s voice was harsh. He was on his feet in a frenzy of rage.
The voice came again, louder, more despairing.
“I want Martin!”
“Do something, for God’s sake!” cried Floyd.
“There is nothing to be done but wait.”
The doctor went back into the room. The cry continued. Miss Mary came in.