Barbara was indeed standing in the middle of the room with a look on her face such as her father wore sometimes on the racecourse, in the hunting field, or at stormy Cabinet Meetings, a look both resolute and sharp. She spoke at once: “I got your address from Mr. Courtier. My brother is ill. I'm afraid it'll be brain fever, I think you had better go and see him at his rooms in the Temple; there's no time to be lost.” To Audrey everything in the room seemed to go round; yet all her senses were preternaturally acute, so that she could distinctly smell the mud of the river at low tide. She said, with a shudder: “Oh! I will go; yes, I will go at once.” “He's quite alone. He hasn't asked for you; but I think your going is the only chance. He took me for you. You told me once you were a good nurse.” “Yes.” The room was steady enough now, but she had lost the preternatural acuteness of her senses, and felt confused. She heard Barbara say: “I can take you to the door in my cab,” and murmuring: “I will get ready,” went into her bedroom. For a moment she was so utterly bewildered that she did nothing. Then every other thought was lost in a strange, soft, almost painful delight, as if some new instinct were being born in her; and quickly, but without confusion or hurry, she began packing. She put into a valise her own toilet things; then flannel, cotton-wool, eau de Cologne, hot-water bottle, Etna, shawls, thermometer, everything she had which could serve in illness. Changing to a plain dress, she took up the valise and returned to Barbara. They went out together to the cab. The moment it began to bear her to this ordeal at once so longed-for and so terrible, fear came over her again, so that she screwed herself into the corner, very white and still. She was aware of Barbara calling to the driver: “Go by the Strand, and stop at a poulterer's for ice!” And, when the bag of ice had been handed in, heard her saying: “I will bring you all you want—if he is really going to be ill.” Then, as the cab stopped, and the open doorway of the staircase was before her, all her courage came back. She felt the girl's warm hand against her own, and grasping her valise and the bag of ice, got out, and hurried up the steps. CHAPTER IX