But you're going just the same.

You're going to get a good night's rest.

I don't intend to have you fall sick from that tap I gave you with the wrench.

Come on! I'll bring you some fresh dressings for your head by the time you're undressed." As he talked he passed one huge arm around Gavin and carried, rather than led, him to the stairway.
"Good night, Mr.Brice," called Claire from near the doorway.
"I do hope your head will be ever so much better in the morning.

If you want anything in the night, there's a call-bell I've put beside your bed." Once more a dizzy weakness seemed to have overcome Gavin.