No; there was nothing. The sky was a little dark, as if a blight were coming on; but there was hardly more than a veil of cloud, and the light was scarcely more than tinged with gloom. It was just such a sky as precedes a spring thunderstorm. She said so, clearly and firmly.
Mabel’s face steadied still more.
“Very well, nurse.... Then—-”
She turned to the little table by the side on which Sister Anne had set down what she had brought into the room.
“Show me, please.”
The nurse still hesitated.
“Are you sure you are not too frightened, my dear? Shall I get you anything?”
“I have no more to say,” said Mabel firmly. “Show me, please.”
Sister Anne turned resolutely to the table.
There rested upon it a white-enamelled box, delicately painted with flowers. From this box emerged a white flexible tube with a broad mouthpiece, fitted with two leather-covered steel clasps. From the side of the box nearest the chair protruded a little china handle.