"I don't care--a--cent _now_," she whispered.

She bore the journey to Cecil Street better than they could hope, and
the bleeding from the lungs had ceased.

Downstairs Saidie expressed a wish to remain all night with her
sister.

"She ought not to be left," she said.

"Most decidedly she must not be left," replied Sir John--"I intend
remaining with your sister."

"You! Well, this beats all, upon my word!"

So great was Miss Blackall's surprise that when she found herself
ousted from the position of head nurse and the door metaphorically
closed upon her, she had not a word to say, but called a hansom and
had herself driven to Bayswater, where she had been living since her
mother's death, now nearly a year ago.

"And I used to think he didn't amount to a row of pins," she murmured
with an odd sort of penitence. "Well, I guess I was wrong, that's
all."

Through the long hours of that never-ending night John Chetwynd
watched by Bella's bedside. For the most part, she lay mute and
inert, but towards morning she grew restless.

"I must talk," she cried excitedly--"to see you sit there and to