net/license). But a far greater affliction was in store for her. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. And nowhere could I obtain the slightest information. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. “We played at love-making in Paris. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter.
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