Len pointed to a glass of water by the bed. Janey gave him a drink. He began to cough violently, and his face became purple. Nigel felt sick.
"I—I'm better," gasped Leonard. "I—I had ... a beastly stitch ... but it's gone."
"When's the doctor coming again?" Nigel asked Janet.
"The first thing to-morrow."
"He ought to have a nurse."
"Oh, no!" cried Len; "you and Janey can manage me ... between you ... I'll soon be all right ... I don't want any little Tottie Coughdrop fussing round."
"He's dreadful," said Janey, "he will talk."
"How long has he been like this?"
"As I tell you, he'd been feeling queer all the afternoon. Then I crocked up for some silly reason, and instead of being properly attended to, he had to look after me"—a sob broke into her voice, and she pulled Nigel aside. "The doctor says it's a frightfully acute case," she whispered.