Page:The Yellow Book - 01.djvu/244

224 &quot;Daisy,&quot; he exclaimed roughly, a moment later, &quot;where the deuce do you keep the note-paper?&quot;

&quot;I don't know if there is any, but the girl always has some.&quot; She spoke in a slow tone—insolent and fatigued.

A couple of bed-pillows were supporting her head, and a scarlet plush cloak, trimmed with white down, was covering her feet, as she lay curled on the sofa. The fire-light glinted on the metallic gold of her hair, which clashed with the black of her eyebrows; and the full, blue eyes, wide-set, contradicted the hard line of her vivid-red lips. She drummed her ringers on the sofa-edge, nervously.

&quot;Never mind,&quot; said the bald man shortly, producing a note book from his breast-pocket, and tearing a leaf from it.

He wrote, and the other two stayed silent; the man returned to the hearthrug, lifting his coat-tails under his arms; the girl went on drumming the sofa-edge.

&quot;There,&quot; sliding back his chair, and looking from the one to the other, evidently uncertain which of the two he should address. &quot;Here is the prescription. Get it made up to-night, a table- spoonful at a time, in a wine-glassful of water at lunch-time, at dinner-time and before going to bed. Go on with the port wine twice a day, and (to the girl, deliberately and distinctly) you must keep quite quiet; avoid all sort of excitement—that is extremely important. Of course you must on no account go out at night. Go to bed early, take regular meals, and keep always warm.&quot;

&quot;I say,&quot; broke in the girl, &quot;tell us, it isn't bad—dangerous, I mean?&quot;

&quot;Dangerous! no, not if you do what I tell you.&quot;

He glanced at his watch, and rose, buttoning his coat.

&quot;Good-evening,&quot; he said gravely.

At first she paid no heed; she was vacantly staring before her: then,