‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. Mama will be expecting me. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. Decidedly this was imbecile. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly.
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