To her surprise, on entering the hall, she found Captain Coppinger there.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, “I thought you were out.”
She looked at him and was struck with his appearance, the clay-like color of his face, the dark lines in it, the faded look in his eyes.
“Are you unwell?” she asked; “you really look ill.”
“I am ill.”
“Ill—what is the matter?”
“A burning in my throat. Cramp and pains—but what is that to you?”
“When did it come on?”
“But recently.”
“Will you not have a doctor to see you?”