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Rh

[Then with a shudder at his thoughts]

No! I don’t hope! I don’t!

[He cries]

Sam!

[He kneels down, feels of his heart, pulse, looks into his face—with a change to a strictly professional manner]

He’s not dead. Only a bad stroke.

[With a cry of grief]

Oh, Ned, did all our old secret hopes do this at last?

[Professionally, staring at her coldly]

Bosh, Mrs. Evans! We’re not in the Congo that we can believe in evil charms!

[Sternly]

In his condition, Mr. Evans must have absolute quiet and peace of mind or— And perfect care! You must tend him night and day! And I will! We’ve got to keep him happy!

[Dully]

Again?

[Then sternly in her turn, as if swearing a pledge to herself]

I will never leave his side! I will never tell him anything that might disturb his peace!

[Standing above them—thinking exultantly]

I will not have long to wait now!