Here's your ticket to London. You're going to London...."

"No, no! ... It's all melted ... it won't buy a ticket.... I can't find
her.... I can't get to her...."

Sophy sank down by the bed, and took the hot little hand in both her
own.

"I'm here, my darling.... I'm here...." she said in a voice of wonderful
quiet. "You won't need to go to London to find me, dearest.... See, I'm
here...."

The brilliant eyes fixed on her anxiously. ".... Mother?" ventured the
perplexed voice, faintly hopeful. Then again that piteous wail broke
from him. The little hand jerked in hers trying to release itself.
"You're not my mother ... my mother's in Venice.... I'm going to her....
Where's my money? Where's my money?"

Sophy dropped her face upon the bedclothes. The nurse and doctor stood
by in silence. Bobby fumbled with the money. He began again: "A
first-class ticket, please.... A ticket to London.... A ticket to
London.... I've got the money ... here's the money...."

The anguish of remorse and love were rending her, but outwardly she was
as calm as the two professionals who stood and pitied her.

She looked up at last. She said to Bellamy:

"You can trust me. I am quite controlled. But...." She gasped in spite
of her furious will. ".... don't let _her_ come into this room."

"No, she shall not. Don't be afraid," Bellamy said soothingly as to a
child. "I will go and see to it. Nurse Fleming here will aid you in
every way. Bobby likes her...." he added, then left the room.

Now the boy was turning his head from side to side on the pillow.

"It's jolly hot in here ... it's too hot ... it's too hot...." he kept
muttering. Then he called out fretfully: "I'm thirsty!... I want some
water!"

Nurse Fleming gave him some chilled water in a spoon. He was quiet for a
second or two. Then he began again in that thick, quick little voice:

"A ticket to London, please.... A ticket to London.... I'm her only
man.... She said I was.... _He_ ain't her man ... he's married.... I'm
glad.... I don't want a new father.... I hate new fathers.... Mother
dear, I'm your man.... Don't marry anybody.... I'm your man...."

Sophy began whispering softly, her face close to his:

"No, sweetheart. You're my only, only man.... I'm not going to marry
anybody, my darling. Bobby.... Bobbikins ... it's mother talking to you
... mother.... My little man ... my only little man...."

He seemed to recognise her for an instant. "Mother!... Let's begin ou