But Mrs. Dent recurred to the fact of Weldon's illness.
"Poor boy! Fancy being really ill, so far from home and in a hotel!"
she added slowly.
"It is one of the risks of a soldier," her husband reminded her.
"Yes, and the soldiers fought for us. Where would your mines have
been without them?" she suggested in return. "I really wish you
would telephone to the hotel and find out something more definite
about him."
Her husband looked covetously at the entree, just appearing in
sight.
"Now?" he asked.
She ignored the mockery of his tone.
"Yes, please," she assented quietly. "It will only take you a
minute."
It took him ten. When he came back into the room, his hat was in his
hand.
"I think I will go over to the Grand for a minute," he explained. "I
don't quite like what I hear."
"What did you hear?"
In the dim upper hallway, a girlish figure leaned far over the
railing and strained her ears for the reply. Then, noiselessly, the
door of her room shut again behind her.
"They tell me," Mr. Dent was saying; "that Weldon is there,
unconscious in his room. The boy brought him into the house in his
arms, and they have sent for Dr.
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