Anne disentangled herself.
“I shall be in the next room, within call,” she said rather breathlessly. “You must be good and do as the doctor says, or you won’t get well.”
He fell back upon the pillow and looked up at her.
“Is it as bad as that?” he whispered with a wry smile. “Six weeks ago I would have welcomed the tidings, but now, that you are here, that you have forgiven me, I am afraid. Promise, promise you will not leave me?”
A lump in Anne’s throat, she nodded. “I will not leave the apartment until you are entirely out of danger, Alexis,” she whispered, her hand on his tumbled hair.
He heaved a sigh of satisfaction, and drawing her fingers to his fever-smitten lips, kissed them pleadingly.
“Now you may go. If it is only into the other room? But first prove that you were really here last night.”
She knitted her brows.
“But how can I, Alexis, if you won’t take my word?”
“Take down your hair,” was his whispered command. “Let me see if it looks the same as in my dream.”