"Rheumatism?" he repeated, when Nigel had swallowed the draught.
"Yes. I have it awfully badly, like creatures gnawing me almost."
He sighed, and lay lower in the bed.
"I can't understand it. Rheumatism in this perfect climate!" he murmured.
Mrs. Armine made an ostentatious movement as if to go away and leave them together.
"No, don't go, Ruby," Nigel said.
He felt for her hand.
"I want you—you two to be friends," he said. "Real friends. Isaacson, you don't know what she's been in—in all this bad time. You don't know."
His feeble voice broke.
"I'll be here to-morrow," said Isaacson, after a pause.