You can't, of course, think of going on. I will see
that she is as comfortable here as she would be with me; everything
shall be done."
Lee answered that he was certain of that. A feeling of helplessness
fastened on him, together with the incongruous speculation about the
propriety of a cable to William Grove. The absurd idea occurred to him
that Savina had two husbands; each with the right, if he desired, to be
at a side of her bed, each holding one of her limp hands. He dismissed
the elaborated thought in a rage at the triviality of his mind. Fancett
and Daniel had gone temporarily: Lee had heard the former making
arrangements to stay over night at the sugar estate. Savina's fast
superficial breathing now dominated the room. He was again seated
beside her, leaden-hearted and blank.
It was so useless--this illness and suffering, now! The doctor had
seemed to insinuate that it might be traced to him, Lee Randon. What
the devil did he mean by that? It was the fault of Daniel, the
immobile, as much as anyone. In an airy room, under comfortable
conditions, probably it wouldn't have happened. Savina's suit, her
shoes, the bags, hadn't been disturbed. There was a faint tightening of
her grasp, and he bent close, but he distinguished only random words.
"--not sorry. Willing ... with you. Don't be unhappy."
It required an enormous effort, the sound was at once all but
imperceptible and burdened with an agony of labor.
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