"Aunt Mary has taken my place with George," she said in a low tone. "She says I may give you some tea. It will be late before you can get your dinner on the train. Would you like it?"
"Tremendously," said Merriam sincerely.
"Come into the sitting room, then."
She crossed the sick room to the door at the other side which led to the sitting room, and he followed, with a nod to Aunt Mary, who now sat by the sleeping Senator's bed.
Arrived in the sitting room, he was further delighted to find that neither Rockwell nor Simpson was present. It was to be a genuine tête-à-tête. By one of the windows stood a small table with the tea things upon it, the kettle already singing over an alcohol flame. Beside the table stood a large armchair and a small rocker.
"The big chair is for you," said Mollie June, seating herself in the rocker and adjusting the flame.
"Thank you," he said and sat. Then a mingling of pleasure and embarrassment held him awkwardly silent.
Mollie June was apparently quite composed.
"George is ever so much better," she said. "He was awake a few minutes ago, and he seemed almost well. He has only a very little fever left."
She smiled brightly at Merriam, who dimly realised that it was to the fact that her mind was now at ease about her husband that he owed this treat.