As he went out the nurse said: "If you wish to return to town, you may,
I think. She will forget about you for two or three days, as usual.
Shall I telegraph if she becomes restless?"
"Yes. What does the doctor say to-day?"
The slim nurse looked at him under level brows.
"There is no change," she said.
"No hope." It was not even a question.
"No hope, Captain Selwyn."
He stood silent, tapping his leg with the stiff brim of his hat; then,
wearily: "Is there anything more I can do for her?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Thank you."
He turned away, bidding her good-night in a low voice.
* * * * *
He arrived in town about midnight, but did not go to any of his clubs.
At one of them a telegram was awaiting him; and in a dismantled and
summer-shrouded house a young girl was still expecting him, lying with
closed eyes in a big holland-covered arm-chair, listening to the rare
footfalls in the street outside.
But of these things he knew nothing; and he went wearily to his lodgings
and climbed the musty stairs, and sat down in his old attitude before
the table and the blank wall behind it, waiting for the magic frescoes
to appear in all the vague loveliness of their hues and dyes, painting
for him upon his chamber-walls the tinted paradise now lost to him for
ever.
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