Part 18 (1/2)
”Surely, madam! I will telephone at once, madam. He shall be here in one quarter hour. I know where he is. He is a very good doctor.”
”Oh, thank you!” Concierges were marvellous persons.
As soon as she had gone again the concierge made all the pages tremble.
It was the thwarted desire to kneel at Lilian's feet and kiss her divine shoes that caused him to terrorize the pages.
As for telegraphing to Miss Grig, she decided that obviously she could send no message till the doctor had examined and reported. In regard to the hotel authorities and servants she now had no shame. She alone was responsible for Felix's welfare, and she would be responsible, and they must all think what they liked about her relations with him. She did not care.
The concierge was indeed marvellous, for in less than twenty minutes there was a knock at Felix's door. Lilian opened, saw a professional face with hair half sandy, half grey, and, turning to Felix, murmured:
”It's the doctor, darling.”
Felix, to whom she had audaciously said not a word about sending for a doctor, actually sat up, furious.
”I'm not going to see a doctor,” he gasped. ”I'm not going to see any doctor.”
”Come in, doctor, please.”
The moment was dramatic. Felix of course was beaten.
”You'll find me in the next room, doctor,” she said, after a minute, and the doctor bowed. In another ten minutes the doctor entered her bedroom.
”It's a mild attack of pneumonia,” said he, standing in front of her.
”Very mild. I can see no cause for anxiety. You'd better have a nurse for the night.”
”I would sooner sit up myself,” Lilian answered. ”I've nursed pneumonia before.”
”Then have a nurse for the day,” the doctor suggested. ”I can get an English one from the Alexandra Hospital--a very good one. She might come in at once and stay till ten o'clock, say.” Then he proceeded to the treatment, prescriptions, and so on.... An English nurse!
Lilian felt extraordinarily grateful and rea.s.sured. She knew where she was now. She was in England again.
”Ought I to telegraph home?” she asked.
”I shouldn't if I were you,” the doctor replied. ”Better to wait for a day or two. Telegrams are so disturbing, aren't they?”
His gentle manner was inexpressibly soothing. It was so soothing that just as he was leaving she kept him back with a gesture.
”Doctor, before you go, I wish you would do something for me.” And she sat down, her face positively burning and shed tears.
In the night, as she sat with Felix, the patient's condition unquestionably improved. He even grew cheerful and laudatory.
”You're a great girl,” he muttered weakly but firmly. ”I know I was most absurdly cross, but I'm a rotten invalid.”
She looked at him steadily, and, her secret resolve enfeebled by his surprising and ravis.h.i.+ng appreciation, she let forth, against the dictates of discretion, the terrific fact which was overwhelming her and causing every fibre in her to creep.
”It's true what I told you.”
”What?”