Doris looked a little embarrassed.
"Your son told me it was pneumonia."
"I never heard a word of it! And this--this creature nursed him?" The
tone of the robbed lioness at last!--singularly inappropriate under all
the circumstances. Doris struggled on.
"An actor friend of your son brought her to see him. And she really
devoted herself to him. He declared to me he owed her a great deal--"
"He need have owed her nothing," said Lady Dunstable, sternly. "He had
only to send a postcard--a wire--to his own people."
"He thought--you were so busy," said Doris, dropping her eyes to the
carpet.
A sound of contemptuous anger showed that her shaft--her mild shaft--had
gone home. She hurried on--"But at last I got him to promise me to wait
a week. That was yesterday at five o'clock. He wouldn't promise me to
write to you--or his father. He seemed so desperately anxious to settle
it all--in his own way. But I said a good deal about your name--and the
family--and the horrible pain he would be giving--any way.
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