"Have you taken her temperature?" he said, businesslike and erect.
"Ninety-eight."
"Her pulse is strong?"
"Yes; she's resting quietly."
"Good.—And—did you get my note?"
This, much as if he had said, "Did you find my scarf-pin?" or anything merely casual; for Liz was hovering near.
"Yes." The nurse's red lips were trembling, but she smiled up at him. Liz came nearer. She was only wishing him Godspeed with his wooing, but it made him uncomfortable.
"Watch her closely," he said, "she's pretty weak and despondent." And he looked at Liz.
"Elizabeth," said the Nurse, "won't you sit by Claribel and fan her?"
Claribel was the new mother. Claribel is, of course, no name for a mother, but she had been named when she was very small.