“Mr. Petrovskey is ready to see you,” she said, her admiring gaze upon Anne’s hair. “You don’t mind if I time you? The doctor’s orders were for five minutes only.”
Anne turned and faced the girl, outwardly serene, but her heart was knocking against her side.
“Of course not. Please consider me absolutely under your orders, nurse. Shall I go in?” With a regal inclination of the head and shaky knees she swept by into the sick-room.
Alexis greeted her from amidst freshened pillows.
“I had a dream last night,” he whispered huskily. His eyes leapt to hers like wind-blown flames. “They tell me it was true?”
She approached the bed and stood looking down upon him.
“If your dream was of me, I was here,” she said simply, almost shyly. They continued to look at each other in silence. He put forth a thin hand and fingered her dress.
“Anne—Anne?” he queried weakly. “Can I believe my eyes?”
“Is it so difficult?” she replied. “My dear, they told me you were ill, and so I came.”
Sinking down into the chair next the bed, she took his groping fingers and stroked them gently. “Poor dear, poor dear.”