“I am taking it on to cure myself of atrocious habits of indolence.  And look at the educational process.  I shall have to read all the important new books, and attend the Private Views, and examine the working local government; bless you!  I shall become a compendium of information on every possible modern subject.  Then think of the power I shall wield; let Quirk and his gang beware!—­I shall be able to kick those log-rollers all over the country—­there will be a buffet for them here, and a buffet for them there, until they’ll go to their mothers and ask, with tears in their eyes, why they ever were born.  Or will it be worth while?  No.  They are hardly important enough; the public don’t heed them.  But the four hundred pounds is remarkably important—­to any one looking forward to having an extravagant spendthrift of a wife on his hands, and so you see, Linn, everything promises well.  And I will say good-night to you now—­though I am not leaving the house yet—­oh, no!—­you can send the nurse for me if you want me. Schlaf’ wohl!”

The sick man murmured something unintelligible in reply, and then lay still.

Now Maurice Mangan had spoken of his dawdling about this house; but the fact was that he had his hands full from morning till night.  The mere correspondence he had to answer was considerable.  Then there were the visitors and the doctors to be received, and the nurse to be looked after, and the anxious mother to be appeased and reassured.  Indeed, on this evening, the old lady, hearing that her son was sensible, begged and entreated to be allowed to go in and talk to him, and it took both her husband and Maurice to dissuade her.

“You see,” said Mangan, “he’s used to me; he doesn’t mind my going in and out; but if he finds you have all come up from Winstead, he may be suddenly alarmed.  Better wait until the crisis is over—­then you may take the place of the nurse whenever you like.”

Shortly thereafter the old people and Francie left for their hotel; then Maurice had to see about Nina, whom they had left in the up-stairs room.

“Just as you wish,” she said, with a kind of pathetic humility in her eyes.  “If I can be of any service, I will stay all the night; a chair, here, will be enough for me.  Indeed, I should be glad to be allowed—­”

“No, no,” said he, “at present you could not be of any use; you must get away home and have a sound night’s rest after your travelling.  I have just called the nurse; she will be down in a minute.  And if you will put on your things I will send for a four-wheeled cab for you; or I will walk along with you until we get one.”

All day long Nina had betrayed no outward anxiety; she had merely listened intently to every word, watched intently the expression of every face, as the doctors came and went.  And now, as Mangan shut the door behind them, he did not care to discuss the chances of the fever; it was a subject all too uncertain and too serious for a few farewell words.  But there was one point on which, delicate as it might be, he felt bound to question her.