Tears came at once into the Levantine’s eyes.
“Very, very ill, monsieur. Still there is a chance—just a chance that she may not die. Ah, when I sit here all alone in this strange place, I feel that she will perish, that soon I shall be quite deserted in this cruel, cruel world!”
The tears began to flow down her cheeks with determination. Mr. Greyne was terribly upset.
“You must cheer up,” he exclaimed. “You must hope for the best.”
“Sitting here alone, how can I?”
She sobbed.
“Sitting here alone—very true!”
A sudden thought, a number of sudden thoughts, struck him.
“You must not sit here alone.”
“Monsieur!”