"Yes—a friend of hers."
The doctor turned away to the door. He was a kind man, but overworked and underpaid, and could not afford to waste a moment more than he was obliged.
"Well, I should send for her," he said briskly. "The woman here tells me she cannot stay all night. She has her own home and children to attend to. If you know where this 'Peg' is—send for her."
Forrester saw the doctor out, and went in search of the kindly neighbour who had tucked the twins up in bed, and was tidying the house.
He had no more idea than the dead how he was going to find Peg, but he asked the neighbour hopefully for information.
"Yes, I know her," she said. "I know her well—she lives about ten minutes away from here. Yes, I can give you her address."
Forrester wrote it down on his shirt cuff, promised to be back quickly, and went out.
The door of the room where Faith lay was open as he passed it, but some queer impulse prevented him from entering. She had said that she did not want him—well, he could wait.
But his heart was sore as he went up and down the narrow streets in search of Peg.
She was at the door of the house when he reached it, laughing and talking with a youth in a loud check suit and a highly-coloured tie, and her handsome face hardened as Forrester approached and raised his hat. She vouchsafed no answer to his "Good evening," only stared as he explained his errand.