"You would not send me from you?" said Monkey Brand, his face twitching. "You would not be so hard on me, Cuckoo?"
"Yes," she said, "I would."
The pretty, vulgar, dying face, under its crooked fringe, was illuminated. A sort of shadow of Cuckoo's hard little domineering manner had come back to her.
"I must be alone with Janet for a little bit, quite alone. You and the nurse will go outside, and wait till Janet comes to you. And then," she looked at her husband with tender love, "you will come back to me, and stay with me to the last."
He still hesitated.
"Go now, Arthur," she said, "and take nurse with you."
The habit of obedience to her whim, her fancy, her slightest wish, was ingrained years deep in him. He got upon his feet, signed to the nurse, and left the room with her.
"Is the door shut?" said Cuckoo.
"Yes."