She hastened instantly to the bed and bent over it. She touched the forehead, the wrist, with rapid, business-like movements. She put her hand upon Dick's heart.
"Is he dead?" asked Annette.
"No," she said, "but he is unconscious, and he is very ill. It is some kind of seizure. When did your husband become like this?"
"I—don't know," said Annette.
The woman turned indignantly upon her.
"You don't know! Yet surely you sat up with him? You look as if you had been up all night."
"I sat up, but I did not look at him," said Annette. "I never thought he was ill."
The elder woman's cheek reddened at the callousness of Annette's words, as at a blow. She was silent for a moment, and then said coldly—
"We have only one thing to think of now, and that is how to save his life, if it can be saved."