"I am glad it was nothing more."

She spread out the telegram and read it again. She did not seem to
hear him. Dr. King looked at her uneasily. There was certainly no
grief in her face, yet her color did not come back.

"Some one is dead," she said. "Not--a friend." William was silent.
"But it startled me."

"Yes," the doctor said.

"Oh, Dr. King!" she cried violently; and put her hands over her face.
He thought with relief that tears had come. "He was--an enemy," she
said. "He is dead, Mrs. Richie; forgive him."

She did not answer. It was all William King could do not to stroke the
soft hair of the bent head, and say "Don't cry," as if to a child. But
when she lifted her face, her eyes were quite dry; there was a
flashing look in them that broke into breathless, wavering laughter.

"I beg your pardon; it is just the--the shock, you know."

"Yes," the doctor said; "I know." He could not help covering with his
big, warm palm, the shaking hands that were pulling and twisting the
telegram. "There, there! My dear Mrs. Richie--where is that bromide I
gave you for David? I want you to take some."

"Oh, it isn't necessary; truly it isn't. I am not unhappy. I am just--
"