"Kurt doesn't look so—so sick," went on Kathleen. "Only—only I don't know what—different, I guess. I'm crazy to go in—to see him. Lenore, will they ever let me?"
Their father's abrupt entrance interrupted the conversation. He was pale, forceful, as when issues were at stake but were undecided.
"Kathie, go out," he said.
Lenore rose to face him.
"My girl—Dorn's come to—an' he's asked for you. I was for lettin' him see you. But Lowell an' Jarvis say no—not yet.… Now he might die any minute. Seems to me he ought to see you. It's right. An' if you say so—"
"Yes," replied Lenore.
"By Heaven! He shall see you, then," said Anderson, breathing hard. "I'm justified even—even if it…" He did not finish his significant speech, but left her abruptly.
Presently Lenore was summoned. When she left her room she was in the throes of uncontrolled agitation, and all down the long hallway she fought herself. At the half-open door she paused to lean against the wall. There she had the will to still her nerves, to acquire serenity; and she prayed for wisdom to make her presence and her words of infinite good to Dorn in this crisis.
She was not aware of when she moved—how she ever got to Dorn's bedside. But seemingly detached from her real self, serene, with emotions locked, she was there looking down upon him.