But immediately she saw him again, sitting
forlornly in the chair, with the whole of the left side of his face
criss-crossed in whitish-grey plaster, she was ready to cry over him
and flatter his foolishest whim. She wanted to take him in her arms,
if he would but have allowed her. She felt that she could have borne
his weight for hours without moving, had he fallen asleep against her
bosom.... Still, he must be got to bed. How negligent of the doctor
not to have given the order himself!
Then Louis said: "I say! I think I may as well lie down!"
She was about to cry out, "Oh, you must!"
But she forbore. She became as wily as old Batchgrew.
"Do you think so?" she answered, doubtfully.
"I've nothing else particular on hand," he said.
She knew that he wanted to surrender without appearing to surrender.
"Well," she suggested, "will you lie down on the bed for a bit?"
"I think I will."
"And then I'll give you some hot milk."
She dared not help him to mount the stairs, but she walked close
behind him.
"I was thinking," he said on the landing, "I'd stroll down and take
stock of those bicycles later in the day. But perhaps I'm not fit to
be seen."
She thought: "You won't stroll down later in the day--I shall see to
that.
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