"He's killing himself," she resumed. "And I have to sit by and see it, and say nothing."
"Killing himself!"
Jernington, who believed in women, was shocked.
"With overwork. He's on the verge of a complete breakdown. And it's you, Mr. Jernington, it's all you!"
Jernington was more than shocked. His gratification had vanished. A piteous, almost a guilty expression, came into his large fair face.
"Ach!" he exclaimed. "What have I done?"
"Oh, it's not your fault. But Claude almost worships you. He thinks there is no one like you. He's afraid to lose a moment of time while you are with him. Your learning, your enthusiasm excite him till he's beside himself. He can't rest with such a worker as you in the house, and no wonder. You are an inspiration to him. Who could rest with such an influence near? What are we to do? Unless he has a complete holiday he is going to break completely down. Do watch him to-day! Notice! See for yourself!"
Jernington, much impressed—for Charmian's despair had been very definite indeed, "oleographic in type," as she acknowledged to herself—did notice, did see for himself, and inquired innocently of Charmian what was to be done.
"I leave that to you," she answered, fixing her eyes almost hypnotically upon him.
Secretly she was willing him to go. She was saying in her mind: "Go! Go! Go!" was striving to "suggestion" him.