"Does it do any good—when one is very, very ill—to see—"
The doctor made a motion with his head. "Who is that young girl?" he asked coolly.
"Mrs. Malcourt—"
"Oh! I thought it might have been this Shiela he is always talking about in his delirium—"
"It is," whispered Constance.
For a moment they looked one another in the eyes; then a delicate colour stole over the woman's face.
"I'm afraid—I'm afraid that my boy is not making the fight he could make," she whispered.
"Why not?"
She was speechless.
"Why not!" ... And in a lower voice: "This corridor is a confessional. Miss Palliser—if that helps you any."