"But, madame," said the notary, bewildered, "is not then Madame's name the same as Monsieur's?"
"Madame is so lately married that she sometimes signs her old name by mistake," said the doctor, smiling sadly. He took a pained interest in the young couple, especially in Annette.
"I am not Monsieur's wife," said Annette.
The notary stared, bowed, and gathered up his papers. The doctor busied himself with the sick man, spent and livid on his pillow.
"Approach then, madame," he said, with a great respect. "It is you Monsieur needs." And he withdrew with the notary.
Annette groped her way to the bed. The room had become very dark. The floor rose in long waves beneath her feet, but she managed to reach the bed and sink down beside it.
What matter now if she were tired. She had done what he asked of her. She had not failed him. What matter if she sank deeper still, down and down, as she was sinking now.
"Annette." Dick's voice was almost extinct.
"Here."