"He is alone," she whispered, and with that she pushed Molly through the door with arm of steel. "I will keep watch for ten minutes without. Then I will call." She closed the door and Molly found herself looking fearfully through the dim shadows cast by half-drawn green blinds, at an emaciated face on the pillow. Her pulses throbbed and she wanted very much to cry. Indeed, it required almost superhuman effort to keep back the tears. Was this emaciated, wax-like face on the pillows her Professor's?
"I'm afraid I ought not to be here," she began in a low voice.
"If you leave I shall cry," said the Professor. "Won't you come nearer?"
Molly crept over to the bedside and stood looking down into the changed face. Only the brown eyes seemed the same. She choked and tried to smile. One must be cheerful with sick people, and she hoped the Professor would think it was the rain that had wet her cheeks.
"Shake hands, Miss Molly," said the Professor, lifting one transparent hand and then dropping it weakly.
With an impulse she could hardly explain she knelt beside the bed and put her hand over his.
"You are much better?" she whispered.
"I'll soon be well, now," he replied. "But I've been on a long journey. It seemed endless—so many mountains to climb and rivers to cross—such impenetrable forests——" he paused and shook his head. "I was beginning to get very tired and lonely, too—it's dismal taking the journey alone—but I've come to the end now—it's over——" again he paused and smiled. "I'm glad to find you at last. I've been looking for you a long time."
"I would have come sooner, but they—but she said no one was to see you."
"The nurse?"