For now nearly a week--six days--I've seen her spying for something she
expected, like a face behind a door three inches ajar. She has not been
half alive; she refused explanations;--she was expecting to hear from
him, of him:--the decision, whatever it's to be!'

'I can't aid you there,' said Lady Grace. 'He's one of the unreadables.
He names Tuesday next week.'

'By all means.'

'She?'

'Fredi?--poor Fredi!--ah, my poor girl, yes!--No, she knows nothing.
Here is the truth of it.--she, the legitimate, lives: they say she lives.
Well, then, she lives against all rules physical or medical, lives by
sheer force of will--it's a miracle of the power of a human creature to
. . . I have it from doctors, friends, attendants, they can't guess
what she holds on, to keep her breath. All the happiness in life!--if
only it could benefit her. But it 's the cause of death to us. Do you
see, dear friend;--you are a friend, proved friend,' he took her hand,
and held and pressed it, in great need of a sanguine response to
emphasis; and having this warm feminine hand, his ideas ran off with it.
'The friend I need! You have courage. My Nataly, poor dear--she can
endure, in her quiet way. A woman of courage would take her place beside
me and compel the world to do her homage, help;--a bright ready smile
does it! She would never be beaten. Of course, we could have lived
under a bushel--stifled next to death! But I am for light, air-battle,
if you like. I want a comrade, not a--not that I complain. I respect,
pity, love--I do love her, honour: only, we want something else--courage
--to face the enemy. Quite right, that she should speak to Dudley