The fact was, Ethel had slaved unceasingly, but
unseen, for the patient above stairs. See him she would not. Day
after day, she invented fresh excuses to ward off her mother's
suggestions of a call on the invalid; but also, day by day, she
invented fresh delicacies to tempt the appetite dulled by months of
army biscuit and bully beef. And, meanwhile, she was waiting.
Rather to her surprise, no message came down to her from the
invalid's room. She had supposed as a matter of course that Weldon
would intuitively recognize the source of the dainties which reached
him anonymously. Man-fashion, however, he could see no reason that
his beef tea and his wine jelly should be the work of different
hands. He devoured them both, and reflected thankfully upon the
skill of the Kaffir cook. Mr. Dent had been scrupulously literal in
carrying out the commands laid upon him by his daughter. He had left
in Weldon's mind no doubt whatsoever about the truth of his
statement that Mrs. Dent alone had been responsible for the
invalid's present quarters. Weldon had lavished thanks upon Mrs.
Dent, and she had received them without demur, as her own lawful
property.
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