"Evie is quite sure that I am in love with you, Ambrose--I lied to her when I said I never called you Ambrose. And, of course, we are in love with one another, but in a way that poor Evie doesn't understand. If I was normal, I suppose I'd love you in her way--poor Ambrose, you would be so embarrassed." She laughed quietly. "Love is a great disturbance," said Ambrose, "I think Evie means that kind." "Were you ever in love that way? I have never been. I think I love you as I should love my child, if I had one. If you say that you love me as a mother, I shall be offended, Ambrose. Do you think it will really happen--will it cost very much?" "A pound a visit, and he is coming every day except Sunday." Christina made a calculation and the immensity of the sum left her horror-stricken. "A hundred and fifty pounds!" she cried. "Oh, Ambrose--how can you? I won't have the treatment. It is certain to fail--I won't, Ambrose!" "I've paid a hundred on account. He didn't want to take it, but I said I would only let him come on those terms. I wasn't speaking the truth--I'd have let him come on any terms. So you see, Christina, I've paid, and you must be treated!" "Hold my hand, Ambrose--and don't speak a word. I'm going for a long walk--I haven't dared walk before." She resumed her gaze upon the bed-rail and he sat in silence whilst she dreamed. Evie returned at ten o'clock that night and heard Christina singing as she mounted the stairs. "Enter, sister, has mother told you that I am practically a well woman?" "Don't put too high hopes--" "Shut up! I'm a well woman I tell you. In a year I shall walk into your medicine shop and sneer at you as I pass. Have you brought home any candy? 'Sweets' is hopelessly vulgar, and I like the American word better. And you look bright and sonsy. Did you see the god?" "I wish you wouldn't use religious words, Christina, just when we are going to bed, too. I wonder you're not afraid. Yes, I saw my boy." "Have you a boy?" in simulated surprise. "Evie, you are a surprising child. Whom does he take after?" "Really, I think you are indecent," said her sister, shocked. "You know perfectly well I mean--Ronnie." "Oh, is he the 'boy'? To you girls everything that raises a hat or smokes a cheap cigar is strangely boyish. Well, is he nearly dead from his midnight labors?" "I'd like to see you write a long article for the newspapers," said Evie witheringly. "I wish you could. You may even see that. Tell me about him, Evie. What is he like--what sort of a house has he?" She waited. "He lives in a flat, and, of course, I've never seen it. You don't imagine that I would go into a man's flat alone, do you?'"