"She's all right," said the doctor, as they went down the staircase, "but she mustn't be allowed to get as low as she was yesterday, or there will be trouble."
"And," said May, "what about me?" and she explained to him that she was only in Oxford on a visit and had work in London that oughtn't to be left.
"Has she got a good maid?" asked the doctor.
"An excitable Frenchwoman, but otherwise useful." They were at the front door now.
"And you really ought to go to-morrow?"
"I ought," said May, and her heart seemed to be sinking low down—lower and lower.
"Very well," said the doctor, "I suppose we must let you go, Mrs. Dashwood," and as he spoke he pulled the door wide open. "Here is the Warden!" he said.
There was the Warden coming in at the gate. May was standing so that she could not see into the court. She started at the doctor's remark.
"I'll speak to him," he said, and, bowing, he went down the steps, leaving the door open behind him. May turned away and walked upstairs. She wouldn't have to tell the Warden that she was going to-morrow; the doctor would tell him, of course. Would he care?
She went back to the bedroom, and Lady Dashwood looked round eagerly at her, but did not ask her any questions.