Azalea hurried away and returned with the warm milk she had prepared for Cassandra, who took it and held it to David's lips.
"Drink it, Doctah. She won't touch anything till you do."
Then he obeyed, slowly drinking it all, his eyes fixed on Cassandra's as a child looks up to his mother. As she rose, he held her with his free hand.
"What is it? How long—" His voice sounded thin and weak. "Strange—I can't lift this arm at all. Tell me—"
"Seems like I can't. When you are strong again, I will."
Feebly he tried to raise himself. "Don't, oh, don't, Doctah Thryng. If you bleed again, you'll die," she wailed.
"Sit near me."
She drew a low chair and sat near him, as she had through the slow and anxious hours, and again he drowsed off, only to open his eyes from time to time as if to assure himself that she was still there. Again Azalea brought her milk and white beaten biscuit, hot and sweet, and Cassandra ate. When David opened his eyes to look at her, she smiled on him, but would not let him talk to her.
Nevertheless his mind was busy trying to understand why he was lying thus, and dimly the events of the last few days came back to him, shadowy and confused. When he looked up and