CHAPTER VIII
“TWO IN A STUDIO”
Two days later Claudia was wrinkling her brows over her visiting-list, and sadly contemplating the people she had been shunting, and who must be asked to dinner, when she was surprised to hear Gilbert’s voice outside the door. He had been confined to bed for the last few days with a sharp attack of influenza, and Neeburg had forbidden him to go out.
She rose and opened the door. Outside was her husband, with his hat and coat on.
“Gilbert!”
“I’m going down to my chambers for an hour or two. I’m sick of this coddling, and the only thing to do is to work it off. It was a mistake to take to bed at all. I’m convinced you bring on illnesses that way.”
“Come in a minute. Did Dr. Neeburg say you might go?”
“No. Doctors always try and keep you in bed, and Fritz is no better than the rest of them.”
His face was flushed and unhealthy in colour. His eyes seemed more sombre than ever, and he was obviously quite unfit to go out of the house.
“Gilbert, this is madness. Have you looked at yourself in the glass? At least wait to see the doctor this morning. Surely your work can wait for awhile, or one of your clerks can come down as he did yesterday?”