But Medway had depth on depth of sang-froid. "You look like her and you don't look like her," he murmured. "You may be like her within, but you can't be all like her. Blessings and cursings are all mixed in this life. You must be a little bit like me—Gipsy!"
"It is time," said Hagar, "for an egg beaten up in wine."
She gave it to him, standing, grave-eyed, beside the bed. "I do not think you should talk. Shut your eyes and go to sleep."
"Can you read aloud?"
"Yes, but—"
"Can you sing?"
"Not to amount to anything. But I can sing to you very low until you go to sleep, if that's what you mean—"
"All right. Sing!"
She moved from the shaft of light, and began to croon rather than to sing, softly and dreamily, bits of old songs and ballads. In ten minutes he was asleep, and in ten more the nurse returned.