That evening Maurice was startled. He had gone very quietly into the
sick-room, just to see how his patient was getting on, and found him
breathing heavily and also restlessly muttering to himself. Perhaps even
the slight noise of his entrance had attracted the notice of one
abnormally sensitive; at all events, Lionel opened his eyes, which were
no longer drowsy, but eager and excited, and said,
"Maurice, have you not sent for Nina yet?"
"For Nina?"
"Oh, yes, yes," Lionel went on, as quickly as his laboring breath would
allow. "How can I go abroad without saying good-bye to Nina? Tell
Jenkins to go down to Sloane Street at once--at once, Maurice--before
she leaves for the theatre. I have been waiting for her all day--I heard
the people coming up--one after another--but not Nina. And I cannot go
without saying good-bye. I want to tell her something. She must make
friends with Miss Burgoyne, now she has got into the theatre. Lehmann
will give her a better part by and by--oh, yes, I'll see to that for
Nina--and I must write to Pandiani, to tell him of her success--"
"Oh, but that's all settled, Linn," his friend broke in, perceiving the
situation at once.
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