"No, no, Auntie, you really mustn't. I know how bad your head is ... yes, yes; he's very well. You'll see him in the morning."
And all the while she was conscious of the figure that must be faced again presently, waiting on the landing.
"Shall I go and see that everything's all right in his room?" she said. "Perhaps they've forgotten—"
"Yes, my dearest, go and see. And send Charlotte to me."
The old voice was growing drowsy again.
Maggie went out swiftly without a word. There again stood the figure waiting. The landing lamp had been forgotten. She led the way to his room.
"Come, Laurie," she said. "I'll just see that everything's all right."
She found the matches again, lighted the candles, and set them on his table, still without a look at that face that turned always as she went.
"We shall have to dine alone," she said, striving to make her voice natural, as she reached the door.
Then once more she raised her eyes to his, and looked him bravely in the face as he stood by the fire.