"Shall we sit out on the terrace?"
"If you like. But you must have a coat. I'll fetch it."
"Oh, don't you—"
But the doctor was gone. In a moment he returned with a coat and a light rug. He helped Nigel to put the coat on, took him by the arm, led him out to the chair, and, when he was in it, arranged the rug over his knees.
"You're awfully good to me, Isaacson," Nigel said, almost with softness, "awfully good to me. I am grateful."
"That's all right."
"We were speaking about it only to-day, Ruby and I. She was saying that we mustn't presume on your kindness that we mustn't detain you out here now that I'm out of the wood."
"She wants to get rid of me! Then she must be coming back!" The thought darted through Isaacson's brain, upsetting a previously formed conviction which, to a certain extent, had guided his conduct during dinner.
"Oh, I'm in no hurry," he said, carelessly. "I want to get you quite strong."
"Yes, but your patients in London! You know I've been feeling so ill that I've been beastly selfish. I've thought only of myself. I've made a slave of my wife, and now I've been keeping you out of London all this time."