.
.
‘Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into her room. She was sleeping soundly, so soundly that even my coming did not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had actually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy odour would be too much for the dear child in her
weak state, so I took them all away and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh air. You will be pleased with her, I am sure.’
She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early. As she had spoken, I watched the Professor’s
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face, and saw it turn ashen gray. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the poor lady was present, for he knew her state
