She did not whisper, for one thing.
"The nurse thinks she is coming round, Clayton," she said. "I
waited, because I thought she ought to see a familiar face when
she does."
Mrs. Haverford was eminently good for him. Her cheerful
matter-of-factness her competent sanity, restored his belief in a
world that had seemed only chaos and death. How much, he wondered
later, had Mrs. Haverford suspected? He had not been in any
condition to act a part. But whatever she suspected he knew was
locked in her kindly breast.
Audrey moved slightly, and he went over to her. When he glanced
up again Mrs. Haverford had gone out.
So it was that Audrey came back to him, and to him alone. She asked
no questions. She only lay quite still on her white pillows, and
looked at him. Even when he knelt beside her and drew her toward
him, she said nothing, but she lifted her uninjured hand and softly
caressed his bent head. Clayton never knew whether Mrs. Haverford
had come back and seen that or not.
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