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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"Greatheart"

It
is like lying on thorns. Somehow I can't close my eyes to-night. They
feel red-hot."
His hold did not relax. "My dear," he said, "you talk like a hysterical
child! Lie down at once, and don't be ridiculous!"
She wavered perceptibly before his insistence. "If I do, Scott must give
me a draught. I can't do without it--indeed--indeed!"
"You are going to do without it to-night," Eustace said, with cool
decision. "Scott is worn out and has gone to bed. I made him promise to
stay there unless he was rung for. And he will not be rung for to-night."
Isabel made a sharp movement of dismay. "But--but--I always have the
draught sooner or later. I must have it. Eustace, I must! I can't do
without it! I never have done without it!"
Eustace's face did not alter. It looked as if it were hewn in granite.
"You are going to make a beginning to-night," he said. "You have been
poisoned by that stuff long enough, and I am going to put a stop to it.
Now get into bed, and be reasonable! Biddy, you clear out and do the
same! You can leave the door ajar if you like. I'll call you if you are
wanted."
He pointed to the half-open door that led into the small adjoining room
in which Biddy slept. The old woman stood and stared at him with
consternation in her beady eyes.
"Is it meself that could do such a thing?" she protested. "I never leave
my young lady till she's asleep, Sir Eustace.


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