"His pulse will come up in a minute," he heard the same deep voice say. "If
he had taken a step he would have fainted altogether."
"My poor, dear boy! Whatever in the world...!" Thus Medora Phillips.
"Better not be moved for a little," was the next pronouncement.
Cope lay there inert, but reasonably conscious of what was going on. His
eyes gave him no aid, but his ears were open. He heard the alarmed voice of
Medora Phillips directing the disconcerted maids, and the rustle and
flutter of the garments of other daughters of Eve, who had found him
interesting at last. They remarked appreciatively on his pallor; and one of
them said, next day, before forgetting him altogether, that, with his
handsome profile (she mentioned especially his nose and chin) and with his
colorlessness, he looked for a moment like an ancient cameo.
He knew, now, that he was not going to faint, and that he was in better
case than he seemed. In the circumstances he found nothing more original to
say than: "I shall be all right in no time; just a touch of dizziness...."
He was glad his dress-coat could stand inspection, and hoped nobody would
notice that his shoes had been half-soled.
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