"I can't!" she gasped. "I can't!"
Nick's voice answered her in a quick, confident whisper. "Yes, you
can, dear. It's all right. Hang on to me. I won't let you go."
She obeyed him blindly. There was nothing else to do. And so,
half-led, half-carried, she tottered from the room.
A glare of sunlight smote upon her from a passage-window with a
brilliance that almost hurt her. She stood still, clinging to Nick's
shoulder.
"Oh, Nick," she faltered weakly, "why don't they--pull down the
blinds?"
Nick turned aside, still closely holding her, into the room in which
she had rested for the earlier part of the night.
"Because, thank God," he said, "there is no need. Olga is going to
live."
He helped her down into an easy-chair, and would have left her; but
she clung to him still, weakly but persistently.
"Oh, Nick, don't laugh! Tell me the truth for once! Please, Nick,
please!"
He yielded to her so abruptly that she was half-startled, dropping
suddenly down upon his knees beside her, the morning light full upon
his face.
"I am telling you the truth," he said. "I believe you have saved her
life. She has been sleeping ever since sunrise."
Muriel gazed at him speechlessly; but she no longer suspected him of
trying to deceive her. If he had never told her the truth before that
moment he was telling it to her then.
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