“I think you had better go to Mrs Gloucester, sir. I can’t get her to eat. The food is ready on the table. Perhaps she will take it for you.”
Robert passed her without a word, shutting the door behind him. Jean stared at him across the room.
“Darling! Nurse is distressed that you won’t eat. She has sent me to persuade you.”
“She is a stupid woman—stupid and heartless. She has no right to be a nurse.”
“Don’t say that, dear. She has nursed you well—been most devoted. For three nights she has not had off her clothes.”
Jean’s upper lip curled in scorn. A strong, self-contained woman, who had lost three nights’ rest in performance of her paid duty. Three nights! For how many weary months had she herself missed her sleep, dreading the night, dreading the day, travelling wearily nearer and nearer a martyrdom of pain, and now—nothing! Hungry arms, hungry heart, incredible disappointment! She pushed aside the offered cup with impatient hand.
“I don’t want it. It would choke me.”
“But you are so weak; you will be worse again. For my sake, sweetheart!”
“No! I am better. You can see for yourself. I feel really stronger.” And strange as it appeared, Jean spoke the truth. In some mysterious fashion the flood of anger coursing through her body seemed to have brought with it fresh life and energy. The tone of her voice was clearer, a tinge of colour showed on her cheeks. She looked her husband in the face with cold, challenging eyes.
“You took away my baby—my baby, and hid him for ever, without letting me have one sight of his face! Was that just? Was that fair? Does a woman wait all those months to be cheated at the end? It was a cruel thing to do.”