She saw his instant relief, though he merely acknowledged the
statement by a nod.

"We must have a nurse," he said briefly. "We shall manage all right
then. I'll do my turn. Oh, stuff!" at a look from the doctor. "I
sha'n't hurt. I'm much too tough a morsel for microbes to feed on."

Possibly the doctor shared this opinion, for he made no verbal
protest. It fell to Muriel to do this later in the day when the nurse
was installed, and she was at liberty to leave Olga's room. Nick
had just returned from the post-office whence he had been sending a
message to the child's father. She came upon him stealing up to take a
look at her. Seeing Muriel he stopped. "How is she?"

Muriel moved away to an open window at the end of the passage before
she made reply. He followed her, and they stood together, looking out
upon the sunset.

"The fever is very high," she said. "And she is suffering a good deal
of pain. She is not quite herself at times."

"You mean she is worse?" He looked at her keenly.

It was exactly what she did mean. Olga had been growing steadily worse
all day. Yet when abruptly he turned to leave her, Muriel laid a hasty
hand upon his arm.

"Nick," she said, and her voice was almost imploring, "don't go in!
Please don't go in!"

He stopped short. "Why not?"

She removed her hand quickly. "It's so dangerous--besides being
unnecessary. Won't you be sensible about it?"

He gave his head a queer upward jerk, and stood as one listening, not
looking at her. "What for?"

She could not think of any very convincing reason for the moment. Yet
it was imperative that he should see the matter as she saw it.

"Suppose I had not had it," she ventured, "what would you have done?"

"Packed you off to the cottage again double quick," said Nick
promptly.

It was the answer she had angled for. She seized upon it. "Well, tell
me why."

He spun round on his heels and faced her. He was blinking very
rapidly. "You asked me that question once before," he said. "And out
of a sentimental consideration for your feelings--I didn't answer
it. Do you really want an answer this time, or shall I go on being
sentimentally considerate?"

She heard the old subtle jeering note in his voice, but its effect
upon her was oddly different from what it had ever been before. It
did not anger her, nor did it wholly frighten her. It dawned upon her
suddenly that, though possibly it lay in his power to hurt her, he
would not do so.

She