His voice died hoarsely in his throat and the room seemed quieter than ever as he ceased. The ticking of the watch rose and fell; Jean was a shadow, silent and vague as shadows are. Wayne had risen when Joe began to speak, looking down upon Jean as she knelt clasping the sick man’s hands. The nurse came softly in and heard Jean’s report of the hour.
“I will come again in the morning—or I will stay now,” said Jean.
“No; you can do nothing to-night. But to-morrow at the same hour I should be glad to have you come again.”
“I shall be here,” said Jean.
“He will be better; he will get well,” the nurse whispered, anticipating her question. “He is very strong and I’ve seen many worse cases recover.”
“He didn’t know me,” said Wayne, when he was alone with Jean in the hall.
“No—but he will be glad when they tell him afterward,” she replied, and he saw that she had been crying.
“If you are going into town you will let me go with you—please?”
“Yes; I’m going at once,” she answered indifferently.
Below they found Paddock engaged in placing cots in the assembly room.