"It hasn't hurt it, has it?" asked Jan.
"Oh, no. Is there another skein to hold, Decima?"
Decima replied in the negative. She rose, put the paper of silk upon the table, and then turned to Jan.
"Mamma and I had quite a contention yesterday," she said to him. "I say that Lionel is not being treated properly."
"That's just my opinion," laconically replied Jan. "Only West flares up so, if his treatment is called in question. I'd get him well in half the time."
Lionel wearily changed his position on the sofa. The getting well, or the keeping ill, did not appear to interest him greatly.
"Let's look at his medicine, Decima," continued Jan. "I have not seen what has come round lately."
Decima left the room and brought back a bottle with some medicine in it.
"There's only one dose left," she remarked to Jan.
Jan took the cork out and smelt it; then he tasted it, apparently with great gusto, as anybody else might taste port wine; while Lucy watched him, drawing her lips away from her pretty teeth in distaste at the proceeding.