"Am I to go to her?"
"I suppose so," said Aunt Mary with a sigh. "Mr. Rockwell said----" She stopped.
Merriam showed her the roses.
"Should I take these to her?"
Aunt Mary looked at him and at the flowers.
"I think perhaps you might," she said, and then sat staring out across the fire escape.
She looked so very miserable that Merriam impulsively patted her shoulder. She glanced up quickly at that, then turned her eyes to the window again. He could not read her look, but he was not sorry he had betrayed his affectionate sympathy. If he was to be her brother for the rest of their lives----
After a moment more of hesitation he picked up the flowers and passed through the former sick room to the sitting room.
Mollie June was sitting in a small straight-backed chair by the window, looking out. But Merriam was sure at the first glance that she saw nothing. She had merely turned automatically towards the light, as all but the old or the self-conscious tend to do. As Aunt Mary had said she was very quiet. Her back was of course towards the room and Merriam.
He waited for a moment just inside the door, looking at her, forgetting the flowers in his hands. He was sorry for her and very uncertain what he ought to do. Then he became a little frightened, because she sat so still. She gave no sign of having heard him.