"Yes. He'll bring your breakfast. I've told him to."
Then he was in the house. She felt a slight sense of relief, she scarcely knew why.
The door opened, and Ibrahim came in quietly and carefully with a tray.
"Good mornin' to you, my lady," he said.
"Good morning, Ibrahim."
He set down the tray without noise, stood for a minute as if considering it, then softly went away.
"You'll feel better when you've had breakfast."
"I ought to have had a bath first. But I couldn't wait."
She sat up in front of the little table, and poured out the strong tea. As she did this, she glanced again at her husband and again thought how ill he looked. But she did not remark upon it. She drank some tea, and ate a piece of toast.
"Oh," she said, "as I passed by the Winter Palace, I saw Doctor Isaacson on the terrace."