sniffed first at the stopper and then at the bottle; then she spilled a
few drops of the liquid on her handkerchief and applied the handkerchief
to her temples.

"It's easier," she said.

"Sure?" he asked. He did not know what to do with himself--whether to
sit down and feign that she was well, or to remain standing in an
attitude of respectful and grave anxiety. He thought he ought to depart;
yet would it not be ungallant to desert her under the circumstances? She
was alone. She had no servant, only an occasional charwoman.

She nodded with brave, false gaiety. And then she had a relapse.

"Don't you think you'd better lie down?" he suggested in more masterful
accents. And added; "And I'll go....? You ought to lie down. It's the
only thing." He was now speaking to her like a wise uncle.

"Oh no!" she said, without conviction. "Besides, you can't go till I've
paid you."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, "Oh! don't bother about that
now!" But he restrained himself. There was a notable core of
common-sense in Denry. He had been puzzling how he might neatly mention
the rent while departing in a hurry so that she might lie down. And now
she had solved the difficulty for him.

She stretched out her arm, and picked up a bunch of keys from a basket
on a little table.