“Two. Day nurse and night nurse. And a maid. Judy is nearly frantic about the expense. It isn’t good for her, either, to worry. That’s half the trouble. I tried to make her get help, but she wouldn’t. But I blame myself that I didn’t insist.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Bob. Judy wouldn’t. She told me she could get along. And when Judy decides a thing, no one can change her.”
“Well, times have been hard. And business bad. And Judy knew it. She’s such a good sport.”
They were in a taxi, so when tears came into Heming’s eyes, he made no effort to conceal them.
“I’m just about all in. You can’t understand how much it means to me to have you here.”
“And now that I am here,” said Jane, with a gallantry born of his need of her, “things are going to be better.”
The apartment was simply furnished and bore the stamp of Judy’s good taste. A friend had taken the children out to ride, so the rooms were very quiet as Jane went through them.
Judy in bed was white and thin, and Jane wanted to weep over her, but she didn’t. “You blessed old girl,” she said, “you’re going to get well right away.”
“The doctor thinks I may have to have an operation. That’s why I felt I must wire you.” Judy was anxious. “I couldn’t leave the babies with strangers. And it was so important that Bob should be at his work.”
“Of course,” said Jane; “do you think anything would have made me stay away?”