The curtains were drawn and the room was dark, but on a
sofa near the window he saw his friend lying. He picked his way over
through the studiously disordered furniture and touched Dartmouth on
the shoulder.
"Hal!" he said, "Hal!"
Dartmouth opened his eyes and looked up. "Is it you, Becky?" he
said, languidly. "Go away and let me alone." But his words and manner
indicated that the attack was at last "wearing itself out."
"I will do nothing of the sort," replied Hollington. "Get up off that
sofa this moment. A week! I am ashamed of you. What would the old lady
say?"
"She would understand," murmured Dartmouth. "She always understood. I
wish she were here now."
"I wish she were. She would soon have you out of this. Get up. Don't
be a fool."
"I am not a fool. I have got one of the worst of the old attacks, and
I can't shake it off; that is all. Go away, and let me fight it out by
myself."
"I will not move from this room, if I stay here for six months, until
you go with me. So make up your mind to it." And he threw himself into
an easy-chair, and lighting a cigar, proceeded leisurely to smoke it.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63