He would have an income of his own, and a house of his own; he would be his own master in his house.
If his mother died, Effie and he would sleep together. Perhaps in that bed, on those pillows.
He shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands, pressing in on his eyelids as if that way he could keep out the sight of Effie.
III
That evening the doctor came again. He left a little before nine o’clock, the hour when Nurse Eden would begin her night watch. He refused to hold out any hope. She was sinking fast.
As Hollyer turned from the front-door he met Nurse Eden coming downstairs. She signed to him to follow her into the drawing-room, moving before him without a sound. She shut the door.
He was afraid of Nurse Eden; there was something—he didn’t know what it was, but—there was something unbearable in her small, pure face; in the thrust of her chin tilted by the stiff cap-strings; in her brave, slender mouth, straightening itself against the droop of its compassion; and in the stillness of her dense, grey eyes. Her eyes made him feel uneasy, somehow, and unsafe. He was going to sit up with her to-night; but he would rather have shared his night-watch with old Martha.
“Well?” she said.
“He says this is the end.”