Backed away even against the wall, out of range of the
lamp-light, stricken, shuddering, and mute. Upon Dr. McCabe's arrival and
assumption of command, Carteret, finding himself at liberty to note her
piteous state, led her out into the passage and then to the long
drawing-room, with gentle authority. There for a half-hour or more--to
him sadly and strangely sweet--he sat beside her, while the tears
silently coursed down her cheeks, letting her poor proud head rest
against his shoulder, his arm supporting her gracious young body still
clothed in all the bravery of her flowered silken sunshine dress.
Later, Mary bringing more favourable news of Sir Charles--pain and
suffocation having yielded for the time being to McCabe's
treatment--Carteret persuaded her to go upstairs and let the said Mary
put her to bed. Once there she slept the sleep of exhaustion, fatigue and
sorrow mercifully acting as a soporific, her capacity for further thought
or feeling literally worn out.
During that session in the drawing-room Damaris, to his thankfulness, had
asked no questions of him.
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