He
sank painfully into a chair.
'Shall I fetch you some water?' asked Margaret.
'Can you get a pastille out of my pocket?'
He swallowed a white tabloid, which she took out of a case attached to
his watch-chain.
'I'm very sorry to cause you this trouble,' he gasped. 'I suffer from a
disease of the heart, and sometimes I am very near death.'
'I'm glad that I was able to help you,' she said.
He seemed able to breathe more easily. She left him to himself for a
while, so that he might regain his strength. She took up a book and began
to read. Presently, without moving from his chair, he spoke.
'You must hate me for intruding on you.'
His voice was stronger, and her pity waned as he seemed to recover. She
answered with freezing indifference.
'I couldn't do any less for you than I did. I would have brought a dog
into my room if it seemed hurt.'
'I see that you wish me to go.'
He got up and moved towards the door, but he staggered and with a groan
tumbled to his knees. Margaret sprang forward to help him.
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