"You are not attending," she said.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I was wondering what cause you had to fall out with my agent, Mr. Sander, who is not so stupid as you think."
"He is one of those," she answered primly, "who do not know how to behave in a sick room. He foolishly wanted to talk to you of affairs--when you are not well enough. Affairs--to a sick man!"
"Who should be thinking of the affairs of another world, my sister."
"Those always should come first," she answered, with downcast eyes.
"And of what did Mr. Sander want to speak?" I asked.
She looked up with a gleam of interest. Beneath the demure bib of her professional apron there beat still a woman's heart. Sister Renée wanted to tell me the news herself.
"Oh," she answered, "it is nothing that will interest you. You are
