"See here, don't leave us like this! Supposing anything happens."
"Nothing should happen; only remember she is very weak. I should fear a shock."
"But what are we going to do?"
"Talk with your wife." The doctor spoke with a note of command. "I'm not the one to say what you should do." He pulled on his coat and, turning, held out his hand to his friend. "I'll be back soon," he said more gently. "I'll be with you through the night."
Then he opened the door upon the howling wind and rain and was gone.
Judge Ogilvie walked back into the living-room to see his wife standing before the open fire.
She was a small woman, with a small, hard mouth. Usually it was firmly set, but to-night it trembled with her trembling chin. The judge noted that the old dress she wore, long discarded, was wet; that her hair lay damp against her forehead. Her hands, too, were wet, as she held them out to the flames.
"Where's the doctor?" she asked.
"Gone, for a little."
"And Lillias?"