sual, forlorn, as all men were ... she bent down and
kissed him.

"Lovely Jo," ... he yielded childish, burning lips, then drew away--"No,
you mustn't kiss me--it might be bad for you."

"Gammon, dear. 'Tis only a chill."

She saw that he was in a bate about himself, so after her tender
beginnings, she became rough. She made him sit up while she shook his
pillows, then she made him lie flat and tucked the sheet round him
strenuously; she scolded him for leaving his clothes lying about on the
floor. She felt as if her love for him was only just beginning--the last
four months seemed cold and formal compared with these moments of warm,
personal service. She brought him water for his hands, and scrubbed his
face with a sponge to his intense discomfort. She was bawling downstairs
to the unlucky Raddish to put the kettle on for some herb tea--since an
intimate cross-examination revealed that he had not had the recommended
dose--when the doctor arrived and came upstairs with Sir Harry.

He undid a good deal of Joanna's good work--he ordered the blind to be
let down again, and he refused to back her up in her injunctions to the
patient to lie flat--on the contrary he sent for more pillows, and
Martin had to confess to feeling easier when he was propped up against
them with a rug round his shoulders. He then announced that he would
send for a nurse from Rye.

"Oh, but I can manage," cried Joanna--"let me nurse him. I can come and
stop here, and nurse him day and night."

"I am sure there is no one whom he'd rather have than you, Miss Godden,"
said Dr. Taylor gallantly, "but of course you are not professional, and
pneumonia wants thoroughly experienced nursing--the nurse counts more
than the doctor in a case like this."

"Pneumonia! Is that what's the matter with him?"

They had left Martin's room, and the three of them were standing in the
hall.

"I'm afraid that's it--only in the right lung so far."

"But you can stop it--you won't let him get worse. Pneumonia!..."

The word was full of a sinister horror to her, suggesting
suffocation--agony. And Martin's chest had always been weak--the weak
part of his strong body. She should have thought of that ... thought of
it three nights ago when, all through her, he had been soaked with the
wind-driven rain ... just like a drowned rat he had looked when they
came to Ansdore, his cap dripping, the water running down his neck....
No, no, it could not be that--he couldn't hav