"I wish you would go away," she repeated.
"I will; but you must have a sedative first."
"David's bromide?" she said sarcastically, "A broken finger, or a
broken--well, anything. Dr. King--you won't tell Dr. Lavendar?"
"Tell? What kind of a man do you suppose I am! I wish you would tell
him yourself, though."
"Tell him myself?" she gave him another swift look that faltered as
her eyes met his. "You are crazy! He would take David away."
"Mrs. Richie," said William miserably, "you know you can't keep
David."
"Not keep David!"
She sat up in bed, supported on each side by her shaking hands; she
was like a wild creature at bay, she looked him full in the face. "Do
you think I would give him up, just to please you, or Dr. Lavendar,
when I quarrelled with Lloyd, to keep him? Lloyd wouldn't agree that I
should have him. Yes; if it hadn't been for David, you wouldn't have
the right to despise me! Why, he's all I've got in the world."
William King was silent.
"You think I am wicked! But what harm could I possibly do him?" Her
supporting arms shook so that the doctor laid a gentle hand on her
shoulder, "Lie down," he said, and she fell back among her pillows.
"Who could do more for him than I can? Who could love him so much? He
has everything!" she said faintly.
"Please take this medicine," William interposed, and his calm,
impersonal voice was like a blow, "Oh, you despise me! But if you
knew--"
"I don't despise you," he said again. And added, "I almost wish I
did."
But this she did not hear. She was saying desperately, "I will never
give David up. I wish I hadn't told you; but I will never give him
up!"
"I am going now," the doctor said. "But sometime I am afraid I must
tell you how I feel about David. But I'll go now. I want you to try to
sleep."
When he had gone, she took from under her pillow that letter which had
made her "faint like." It was brief, but conclusive: "The matter of the future has seemed to settle itself--I think wisely;
and I most earnestly hope, happily, for you. The other proposition
would have meant certain unhappiness all round. Keep your boy; I am
sure you will find him a comfort. I am afraid you are a little too
excited to want to see me again immediately. But as soon as you decide
where you will go, let me know, and let me be of any service in
finding a house, etc. Then, when you are settled and feel equal to a
visit, I'll appear. I should certainly be very sorry to let any little
difference of opinion about this boy interfere with our friendship.
L.P."