"I would not care for him if I could take him from you."
"Your father and I were old friends. Your grandfather was a very fine gentleman.... I am glad.... I am a little tired—a little confused. Is your grandfather here with you? I would like to see him."
She said, after a moment, in a low voice: "He did not come with me to-day."
"Give him my regards and compliments. And say to him that it would be a pleasure to see him. I am not very well; has he heard of my indisposition?"
"I think he—has."
"Then he will come," said Colonel Mallett feebly. "Duane, you are not going, are you? I am a little tired. I think I could sleep if you would lower the shade and ask your mother to sit by me.... But you won't go until I am asleep, will you?"
"No," he said gently, as his mother and Naïda entered and Geraldine rose to greet them, shocked at the change in Mrs. Mallett.
She and Naïda went away together; later Duane joined them in the library, saying that his father was asleep, holding fast to his wife's hand.
Geraldine, her arm around Naïda's waist, had been looking at one of Duane's pictures—the only one of his in the house—merely a stretch of silvery marsh and a gray, wet sky beyond.
"Father liked it," he said; "that's why it's here, Geraldine."