The girl hesitated for an instant. Then she stepped quickly over to his cot.
“This is Miss Cameron, Loring,” explained the doctor; “she has come to thank you for what you have done.”
The girl impulsively bent over him, and took his big, weak hand in her own small, strong one.
“Oh, I am glad that you are better. I would have come before to see you, but the doctor would not allow it.”
Loring looked malevolently at the doctor.
“How can I thank you?” she went on.
So fascinated was Stephen by the eager breathless way in which she spoke, that he hardly understood what she was saying. With difficulty he raised himself again on his elbow. “Why it was all in the day’s work of a flagman,” he said. “There is nothing at all for which to thank me.”
She shook her head in denial. “It is not in the day’s work of a flagman to risk his life for someone whom he has never seen,” she said quickly. “There is nothing that I can say which can possibly express my gratitude; but you do know, don’t you?” As she spoke she looked at him appealingly.
Stephen murmured something, he scarcely knew what, in reply, and was conscious of wishing vaguely that the doctor would not look at him.
Miss Cameron laid her armful of flowers beside him. As she dropped the red and yellow sheaf, Stephen noticed the delicate modeling of her wrist, and smiled appreciatively. “When you are better, my father will see you,” continued the girl. “He will reward you, and—” With her usual quick intuition she noticed the shade of annoyance on his face. “That is,” she went on rather slowly, “he will do what he can for you.”