“No,” she answered, thankful to have this pretext for her emotion.
“I have been telling him that he should not have left us so long without news—especially as he has been ill, and things have gone rather badly with him. But I hope we can help now. He has heard that Saint Christopher’s is looking for a house—physician for the paying patients’ wing, and as Mr. Langhope is away I have given him a line to Mrs. Ansell.”
“Extremely kind of you,” Wyant murmured, passing his hand over his forehead.
Justine stood silent. She wondered that her husband had not noticed that tremulous degraded hand. But he was always so blind to externals—and he had no medical experience to sharpen his perceptions.
Suddenly she felt impelled to speak “I am sorry Dr. Wyant has been—unfortunate. Of course you will want to do everything to help him; but would it not be better to wait till Mr. Langhope comes back?”
“Wyant thinks the delay might make him lose the place. It seems the board meets tomorrow. And Mrs. Ansell really knows much more about it. Isn’t she the secretary of the ladies’ committee?”
“I’m not sure—I believe so. But surely Mr. Langhope should be consulted.”
She felt Wyant’s face change: his eyes settled on her in a threatening stare.
[ 510 ]
