"I must be near him; I must be near him," rang the tortured longing of her heart. If he died she must see him buried; stand by his grave.
Something in the stricken face touched Mrs Holbrook. A motor could come round at once; catch the eleven-o'clock train; she was sorry.
"Thank you. My maid can follow. Thank you and good-bye."
"She went herself, my love," said Luke, contentedly.
Oh! crawling slowness of the big car; of the flying express train; biting fear of what might be as she reached London.
Their flat was cold, dusty; Esmé did not notice it; she unhooked the telephone.
"Who is that—Mrs Stanson?" A pause. "How is the child?"
Swaying, Esmé listened.
"Better—almost out of danger. It was exaggerated; his arm is crushed, but there are no internal injuries we hope. Who am I to say asked?"
The nurse had not recognized the hoarse voice.