But there was no response, and presently the elder woman rose and went
out along the landing, and Eileen heard her laughingly greeting Boots,
who had arrived post-haste on news of Drina's plight.
"Don't be frightened; the little wretch carried tons of indigestible
stuff to her room and sat up half the night eating it. Where's Philip?"
"I don't know. Here's a special delivery for him. I signed for it and
brought it from the house. He'll be here from the Hook directly, I
fancy. Where is Drina?"
"In bed. I'll take you up. Mind you, there'll be a scene, so nerve
yourself."
They went upstairs together. Nina knocked, peeped in, then summoned Mr.
Lansing.
"Oh, Boots, Boots!" groaned Drina, lifting her arms and encircling his
neck, "I don't think I am ever going to get well--I don't believe it, no
matter what they say. I am glad you have come; I wanted you--and I'm
very, very sick. . . . Are you happy to be with me?"
Boots sat on the bedside, the feverish little head in his arms, and Nina
was a trifle surprised to see how seriously he took it.
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