He scarcely spoke at all that night. But his
silence satisfied her.
It was not till the following morning that he stretched out a great,
bony hand to her as she waited on him, and drew her down to his side.
"There has been enough of this," he said, with a touch of his old
imperiousness. "You have worked too hard already, harder than I ever
meant you to work. You are to take a rest, and get strong."
She uttered her gay little laugh.
"My dearest Brett, I am strong."
He lay staring at her in his most direct, disconcerting fashion. She
endured his look for a moment, and then averted her eyes. She would have
risen, but he prevented her.
"Sybil!" he said abruptly.
"Yes?" she answered, with her head bent.
"Are you afraid of me?" he said.
She shook her head instantly.
"Don't be absurd!"
"Then look at me!" he said.
She raised her eyes slowly, not very willingly. But, having raised them,
she kept them so, for there was that in his look which no longer made
her shy.
He made a slight gesture towards her that was rather of invitation than
insistence.
"Don't you think I'm nearly well enough to be let into the secret?" he
said.
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