She heard the old subtle jeering note in his voice, but its effect upon her was oddly different from what it had ever been before.  It did not anger her, nor did it wholly frighten her.  It dawned upon her suddenly that, though possibly it lay in his power to hurt her, he would not do so.

She answered him with composure.  “I don’t want you to be anything but sensible, Nick.  And it isn’t sensible to expose yourself to unnecessary risk.  It’s wrong.”

“That’s my lookout,” said Nick.

It was indubitably; but she wanted very much to gain her point.

“Won’t you at least keep away unless she asks for you?” she urged.

“You seem mighty anxious to get rid of me,” said Nick.

“I am not,” she returned quickly.  “I am not.  You know it isn’t that.”

“Do I?” he said quizzically.  “It’s one of the few things I shouldn’t have known without being told.  Well, I’m sorry I can’t consent to be sensible as you call it.  I am quite sure personally that there isn’t the slightest danger.  It isn’t so infectious at this stage, you know.  Perhaps by-and-by, when she is through the worst, I will think about it.”

He spoke lightly, but she was aware of the anxiety that underlay the words.  She said no more, reminding herself that argument with Nick was always futile, sometimes worse.  Nevertheless she found some comfort in the smile with which he left her.  He had refused to treat with her, but his enmity—­if enmity it could be called—­was no longer active.  He had proclaimed a truce which she knew he would not break.

Olga was delirious that night, and privately Muriel was glad that she had not been able to exclude him; for his control over the child was wonderful.  As once with a tenderness maternal he had soothed her, so now he soothed Olga, patiently, steadfastly, even with a certain cheeriness.  It all came back to her as she watched him, the strength of the man, his selfless devotion.

She could see that both doctor and nurse thought very seriously of the child.  The former paid a late visit, but said very little beyond advising her to rest if she could in an adjacent room.  Both Nick and the nurse seconded this, and, seeing there was nothing that she could do, she gave way in the matter, lying down as she was with but small expectation of sleep.  But she was wearier than she knew, and the slumber into which she fell was deep, and would have lasted for some hours undisturbed.

It was Nick who roused her, and starting up at his touch, she knew instantly that what they had all mutely feared had drawn very near.  His face told her at a glance, for he made no effort to dissemble.

“The nurse thinks you had better come,” was all he said.

She pushed the hair from her forehead, and turned without a word to obey the summons.  But at the door something checked her, something cried aloud within her, bidding her pause.  She stopped.  Nick was close behind her.  Swiftly, obedient to the voice that cried, she stretched out her hand to him.  He gripped it fast, and she was conscious for an instant of a curious gladness, a willingness to leave it in his hold, that she had never experienced before.  But at the door of Olga’s room he softly relinquished it, and drew back.