peevish old voice, “you might have allowed my own son—”
“No, no, Auntie, you really mustn’t. I know how bad your head is … yes, yes; he’s very well. You’ll see him in the morning.”
(And all the while she was conscious of the figure that must be faced again presently, waiting on the landing.)
“Shall I go and see that everything’s all right in his room?” she said. “Perhaps they’ve forgotten—”
“Yes, my dearest, go and see. And send Charlotte to me.”
The old voice was growing drowsy again.
Maggie went out swiftly without a word.
There again stood the figure waiting.
The landing lamp had been forgotten. She led the way to his room.