"Margaret."
"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?"
He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not unconscious--yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach.
"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of things. "I--I've just dropped in."
Pybus rose.
"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it."
Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus.
"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?"
"Do you wish me to be ill here?"
"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something."