In the living-room the Harvester paced in misery too deep for consecutive thought.

As consciousness returned, the Girl grew wilder, and the nurse could not follow the doctor's directions and care for her.
Then Doctor Carey called the Harvester.

He went in and sitting beside the bed took the feverish, wildly beating hands in his strong, cool ones, and began stroking them and talking.
"Easy, honey," he murmured softly.

"Lie quietly while I tell you.

You mustn't tire yourself.