The doctor moved the screens from before the candles, Gwen raised her head feebly.
“What is it?” she asked again.
The doctor lifted her and gave her a draught he had ready, she was too weak to resist him, and presently she fell off into a drowsy half-slumber.
After what seemed to Strange a lifetime, she again moved, woke, and repeated the old question, this time audibly and with a tinge of imperiousness.
“Ah, she’ll do now,” said the doctor to himself, grinning a saturnine grin, “when a woman shows her pet weakness she’s out of danger.”
He put back the screen. “I am thankful to say,” he said to her, “you are the sole sufferer, and you’ll soon be all right again.”
Humphrey was well then. She shut her dazed eyes and tried to think, but she could only hover off into drowsiness.
After a time she opened her eyes again and said,
“I would like my maid, perhaps you would tell Sir Humphrey that I am better.”
“Your husband hardly requires the information,” said the doctor drily. “I shall leave Lady Strange in your hands, Sir Humphrey, and I shall remain on the premises in case you want me.”