Even Doctor Stetson's arrival and his subsequent verdict that the patient had bronchitis and would take his life in his hands should he leave his bed, afforded her only scant satisfaction.
So she was to keep Stanley Heath under her roof after all—but against his will. It was not a very flattering situation.
She sent Sylvia up with his coffee and toast, and began her usual round of morning duties.
And then just as they were finished and the clock was striking eleven, he called.
She went up, cheerful but with her head still held high, and paused on the threshold.
Glancing at her he smiled.
"You look like a bird about to take flight. Won't you sit down?"
She went nearer. Nevertheless she did not take the chair he indicated.
"I see you are busy," he said. "I thought perhaps your housework might be done by this time and you might have a moment to spare. Well, I mustn't interrupt. Forgive me for calling."