“Then, if she’s able to think at all she’s worrying about you. Don’t give her more cause for anxiety than you can help, old chap. She’ll need you as soon as she picks up a bit and what earthly use are you going to be to her if you let yourself go to pieces now?”
He held out the tumbler and Kean, after a moment’s hesitation, took it and drank thirstily.
“I wanted that,” he said.
For answer Fayre silently pushed over the plate of sandwiches. Then he sat quietly watching the dancing flames while Kean forced himself to eat. The self-discipline he had always practised stood him in good stead and the plate was half-empty before he leaned back in his chair and fumbled for his cigarette-case.
“Sorry, Hatter,” he said with the ghost of a smile, “but that’s the best I can do.”
Fayre grinned back at him.
“Good enough,” he answered. “Feel better?”
Kean nodded.
“I’d lost grip of myself for the moment, that’s all. Those confounded doctors took such a time this afternoon and then I couldn’t get a thing worth having out of them. I suppose they couldn’t help it, poor beggars, but it seemed a lifetime to me. It was decent of you to come, Hatter.”
“I came because I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer myself. Glad I did, now.”