So she waited, and watched, and struggled against that ever-increasing anxiety.

Had not Mr.Sheldon made light of his friend's malady, and what motive could he have for deceiving her?
A breakfast-cup full of beef-tea stood on the little table by the bedside, and had been standing there for hours untouched.
"I did take such pains to make it strong and clear," said Mrs.Woolper regretfully, as she came to the little table during a tidying process, "and poor dear Mr.Halliday hasn't taken so much as a spoonful.

It won't be fit for him to-morrow, so as I haven't eaten a morsel of dinner, what with the hurry and anxiety and one thing and another, I'll warm up the beef-tea for my supper.

There's not a blessed thing in the house; for you don't eat nothing, Mrs.Halliday; and as to cooking a dinner for Mr.Sheldon, you'd a deal better go and throw your victuals out into the gutter, for then there'd be a chance of stray dogs profiting by 'em, at any rate." "Phil is off his feed, then; eh, Nancy ?" said George.
"I should rather think he is, Mr.George.I roasted a chicken yesterday for him and Mrs.Halliday, and I don't think they eat an ounce between, them; and such a lovely tender young thing as it was too--done to a turn--with bread sauce and a little bit of sea-kale.

One invalid makes another, that's certain.