“But can you keep from catching it?”
“I can do anything I make up my mind to. Now hurry, dear.”
Miriam was seriously alarmed, yet Louise’s confidence was tonic. Moreover this development gave her an elasticity of motion of which she was a little ashamed.
When Keble returned for luncheon he found the table set on the terrace and a strong odor of disinfectants issuing from the house. Miriam explained, and although Keble was familiar with his wife’s rapidity of organization, he was bewildered to find that she was installed in a cabin across the lake, and that his first visit to her was already scheduled. He was to accompany Miriam in the launch at three. Louise would talk to them from the boat-slip, where they would leave supplies.
“That’s all very well,” he agreed. “But what about Louise?”
“Nurses always protect themselves,” Miriam reassured him. “And Louise would be the last woman to make a blunder.”
It was harder than she had foreseen to keep Keble from panic, for every reassuring remark seemed merely to arouse new images of disaster. He was sorry for Dare but considered it clumsy of him to have collected Thelma Gray’s germs.
“You would have done the same,” Miriam reminded him.
“But I wouldn’t have gone prowling bareheaded all over the northwest after a warm evening of dancing,” he said with a sharper accent.
Miriam had been sleepless after the dinner party, and at dawn from her window had seen Dare, dishevelled, cross the meadow through the wet grass and let himself into the house. It came to her as a shock that Keble had witnessed this incident, of which no mention had been made. Had Keble, too, spent a sleepless night? Had that any bearing on his habit, more conspicuous of late, of nervously whistling, and leaving his seat to wander about the house? Miriam was a little unstrung and was grateful for the presence of Aunt Denise, whose rigidity held the household together, even if it occasionally stood in the way of a free and easy routine.