“The law’s delay! We all know something about that,” says Mr. Prince, looking up with a smile of elaborate sympathy from his porridge. “Will legislation ever effect anything towards——?”
“It is an ill wind that blows nobody good,” cries Mrs. Prince, cutting ruthlessly into her husband’s speculation. “Since there is nobody to go back to, what sense is there in your going back?”
* * * * *
“I have only one little hint to give you, dear,” says Mrs. Prince, escorting her visitor to the wounded man’s door, and in a tone tinged with apology; “but you know what an impracticable patient Féo is, and we must give in to sick people’s whims, as she was always impressing upon us about Captain Binning.”
“Yes?”
“Well, dear, it is too silly and exacting of her; but she complains that there were three quarters of an hour between your first and second visits to her yesterday, and forty-five minutes between your second and third.”
“Were there?” rather blankly.
“If the same thing happens to-day, she threatens to get up and go and see for herself what’s happening. Dr. Roots tells her he will not answer for the consequences if she does; but she snaps her fingers at him. However,” with reassurance, “my one confidence is in her colour!”
* * * * *
They meet without the elation of yesterday, their eyes shirking each other, and their hands taking for granted that contact is superfluous. Half a score of subjects had yesterday succeeded her refusal of his suggested gift; but the sting of that rebuff still inflames their memories.