"It was most kind of you to bring her, Mr. Warner. I hope that we shall become friends—" turning to Philippa—"if you also wish it."
Philippa's grey eyes looked steadily at Sister Eila.
"Yes, I do," she said in a low voice.
Sister Félicité appeared from the schoolroom, greeting and presentation were made, and then the elder Sister took Philippa away to the schoolroom where recitations were in progress; and Sister Eila led Warner through the kitchen, up the uncarpeted stairs, and into a room where, on an iron bed, a man lay.
He was young, fair-haired, and very pallid under his bandage, and the eyes he turned on Warner as he entered were the eyes of a sick man.
Sister Eila seated herself on a stool which stood beside the bed; Warner drew up the only other chair and sat down.
The young man turned his hollow eyes from Warner and looked questioningly at Sister Eila.
"Yes," she said, "this is Mr. Warner, an American, who is Mr. Halkett's friend. You may trust him; Mr. Halkett trusted him."
Warner said with a smile, and leaning toward the sick man:
"Is there anything I can do for you? Halkett and I became the very best of friends. I should be very glad of the opportunity to do anything for his friends—" he hesitated, smiled again—"or for any British officer."