e; it is the last dose that I can give you,
as I am going back to my disconsolate husband at luncheon-time."

"I can't have you go away yet; I am not well enough."

"I must go, George; people will begin to talk if I stop here any
longer."

"Well, if you must, I suppose you must," he answered, sulkily. "But I
must say I think that you show a great want of consideration for my
comfort. Who is to look after me, I should like to know? I am far from
well yet--far from well."

"Believe me," she said, softly, "I am very sorry to leave you, and am
glad to have been of help to you, though you have never thought much
about it."

"Oh, I am sure I am much obliged, but it is not likely that you would
leave me to rot of fever without coming to look after me."

She sighed as she answered,

"You would not do as much for me."

"Oh, bother, Anne, don't get sentimental. Before you go, I must speak
to you about that girl Angela. Have you taken any steps?"

Lady Bellamy started.

"What, are you still bent upon that project?"

"Of course I am. It seemed to me that all my illness was one long
dream of her. I am more bent upon it than ever."

"And do you still insist upon my playing the part you had marked out
for me? Do you know, George, that there were times in your illness
when, if I had relaxed my care for a single five minutes, it would
have turned the scale against you, and that once I did not close my
eyes for five nights? Look at me, how thin and worn I am: it is from
nursing you. I have saved your life. Surely you will not now force me
to do this unnatural thing."

"If, my dear Anne, you had saved my life fifty times, I would still
force you to do it. Ah! it is no use your looking at that safe. I have
no doubt that you got my keys and searched it whilst I was ill, but I
was too sharp for you. I had the letters moved when I heard that you
were coming to nurse me. They are back there now, though. How
disappointed you must have been!" And he chuckled.

"I should have done better to let you die, monster of wickedness and
ingratitude that you are!" she said, stamping her foot upon the floor,
and the tears of vexation standing in her eyes.

"The letters, my dear Anne; remember that you have got to earn your
letters. I am very much obliged to you for your nursing, but business
is business."

She was silent for a moment, and then spoke in her ordinary tone.

"By the way, talking of letters, there was one came for you thi