He stopped a moment, and she opened her eyes and looked at him
inquiringly.
"Oh, Madge," he broke out, "I'm so sorry I took you to that confounded
party. You seemed getting on hopefully until that blasted evening.
You must get well enough to haunt me after your old fashion. You don't
know what a dear little sister you have become, and I didn't know it
myself until you were secluded by illness, and all through my fault.
You have barricaded yourself long enough with that stand and its vase
of roses. I'm not going to say good-by at this distance." He removed
the stand, and seating himself by her side, he drew her head down
upon his shoulder and kissed her again and again. "There now," he
continued, "you look perfectly lovely. Kisses are a part of the tonic
treatment you need, and I wish I were going to be here to give them.
Why, you queer little woman! I did not know you had so much blood in
your body."
"It's--it's because I'm not strong," she said, struggling for release.
Suddenly she became still, her face took on almost the hue of death,
and he saw that she was unconscious.
In terrible alarm he laid her hastily on the lounge, and rushed for
Mrs. Muir.
"She has merely fainted," said that experienced woman, after a
moment's examination.
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