The nurse came in and stood at the foot of the bed. After a few moments Mary got up and beckoned her to the window.
"Since I came this morning--only a little more restless toward night."
"The doctor ought to be here very soon," said the nurse non-committally.
Mary turned away, stopped a moment at the bedside, then went back into the study. Lavery was there, sunk in a deep leather chair, smoking. Mary turned to close the connecting door and he got up, holding his cigar in his fingers. She walked up to him, her face deathly pale, and clutched his arm.
"Laurence is going to die!... I want to telegraph for my father!"
"He isn't going to die!" cried Lavery angrily. "I didn't think you'd lose your head like this, first thing, or I wouldn't have gone for you."
But when he felt her hand shake, saw her whole body trembling, he softened somewhat. "Look here, you're too scared. Have you ever seen anybody very sick before?"
"No ... no...." she muttered. "My mother ... but not like this.... He's so strong...."
"Well, he's sick, but we're going to pull him through.... Now look here, are you going to help or not? When I went for you I said to myself, that woman's got good nerve, she'll be a help. But if you're going to be scared to death, first look at him--"
"No--I'll be all right--just a minute--he's never been sick before...."
"Well, I know, but you're going to pull yourself together.... And you come downstairs and eat a bit with me before the doctor gets here. You haven't had dinner and neither have I.... I told them to have something. About telegraphing your father, we'd better wait till you can speak to Sayre about it--that's etiquette and it won't hinder anything. I don't believe he could get a train in tonight, could he?"
"Well, it would be too bad to keep him up all night, if not necessary. You wait and see Sayre.... And now come down, you'll feel better when you've got some food."
She followed him down into the small brightly-lit dining-room, sat opposite him at the table, took soup, wine and coffee. She was aware of a black figure moving round the table, bringing dishes in and taking them out.... Then suddenly, with an almost audible click of the machinery, her mind began to work in its usual way. Her vision cleared, she saw Lavery opposite drinking coffee and re-lighting his cigar. She looked round the room--solid oak furniture, reddish carpet and curtains, silver on the sideboard and rows of bright-coloured wine-glasses, green and red, a fine damask cloth on the table....