"I 'll see about your treatment," he said, without raising his eyes. "But I needn't keep you now. Only—"
"Yes?"
"You mustn't be afraid," he continued. "Not of anything. Do you understand? You mustn't be afraid."
Margaret wished he would look up. "I 'm not afraid," she answered. "Really I 'm not."
Dr. Jakes sighed and rose slowly. The trouble had descended on him again, and he looked sorry and dull.
"That 's right," he said without heartiness, and moved to open the door for her. His appealing eyes dwelt on her for a moment. "This isn't England," he added, with a heavy deliberation. "We 're none of us here because we like it. But—but don't be afraid, Miss Harding."
"I 'm sure there 's nothing to be afraid of," answered Margaret, moved—he was so mournful in his shame. He bowed to her, a slow peck of his big head, and she went.
In the hall, Mrs. Jakes met her and challenged her.
"Well," she said; "and what does the doctor say about you?"
Margaret smiled at her. "He says I shall get well, and I believe he knows," she answered.