The genius of a Stevenson would have become dwarfed in such surroundings.

A phrase, a happy idea, suddenly caught his fancy.

He itched for a pencil and paper.

Then he looked up to find the one thing wanting.

Elizabeth Dalstan, followed by a maid carrying rugs and cushions, had paused, smiling, by his side.
"You have slept and you are better," she said pleasantly.