I must smell my salts, and put my feet up on the sofa, and be moderately overcome during the crisis, and moderately thankful to the Almighty when it's over, so that every one may hear how admirably dear Lady Mary behaved.
And when I am reading the _Times_ to him during his convalescence," she cried, wringing her hands, "Peter--Peter will be thousands of miles away, marching over the veldt to his death." "You make very sure of Peter's death," said John, quietly.
"Oh yes," said Lady Mary, listlessly.

"He's an only son.

It's always the only sons who die.

I've remarked that." "You make very sure of Sir Timothy's recovery." "Oh yes," Lady Mary said again.

"He's a very strong man." Something ominous in John's face and voice attracted her attention.
"Why do you look like that ?" "Because," said John, slowly--"you understand I'm treating you as a woman of courage--Dr.Blundell told me just now that--the odds are against him." She uttered a little cry.
The doctor's voice at the end of the hall made them both start.
"Lady Mary," he said, "you will forgive my interruption.