"I saw it. And if I could he could."
"Funny kid. You'd better get on with your tea. You'll be sent out again before you know where you are."
Charlotte settled down. Sutton was standing beside her now, cutting bread and butter.
"Hold on," he said. "That tea's all stewed and cold. I'll make you some of mine."
She drank the hot, fragrant China tea he brought her.
Presently she stood up. "I think I'll take John some of this."
"Best thing you can give him," Sutton said. He got up and opened the doors for her, the glass doors and the door of the bedroom.
She sat down beside John's bed and watched him while he drank Sutton's tea. He said he was all right now. No. He hadn't ruptured anything; he only thought he had; but Sutton had overhauled him and said he was all right.
And all the time his face was still vexed and drawn. Something must have happened out there; something that hurt him to think of.
"John," she said, "I wish I'd gone with you instead of Mrs. Rankin."