some of mine."

She drank the hot, fragrant China tea he brought her.

Presently she stood up. "I think I'll take John some of this."

"Best thing you can give him," Sutton said. He got up and opened the
doors for her, the glass doors and the door of the bedroom.

She sat down beside John's bed and watched him while he drank
Sutton's tea. He said he was all right now. No. He hadn't ruptured
anything; he only thought he had; but Sutton had overhauled him and
said he was all right.

And all the time his face was still vexed and drawn. Something must have
happened out there; something that hurt him to think of.

"John," she said, "I wish I'd gone with you instead of Mrs. Rankin."

"I wish to God you had. Everything's all right when you're with me, and
everything's all wrong when you're not."

"How do you mean, wrong?"

He shook his head, frowning slightly, as a sign for her to stop. Sutton
had come into the room.

"You needn't go," he said, "I've only come for my coat and my case. I've
got to help with the operations."