'
'Liverer indeed!' said Dick thoughtfully. 'It's well I am a
liverer. I strongly suspect I should have died, Marchioness, but
for you.'
At this point, Mr Swiveller took the small servant's hand in his
again, and being, as we have seen, but poorly, might in struggling
to express his thanks have made his eyes as red as hers, but that
she quickly changed the theme by making him lie down, and urging
him to keep very quiet.
'The doctor,' she told him, 'said you was to be kept quite still,
and there was to be no noise nor nothing. Now, take a rest, and
then we'll talk again. I'll sit by you, you know. If you shut
your eyes, perhaps you'll go to sleep. You'll be all the better
for it, if you do.'
The Marchioness, in saying these words, brought a little table to
the bedside, took her seat at it, and began to work away at the
concoction of some cooling drink, with the address of a score of
chemists. Richard Swiveller being indeed fatigued, fell into a
slumber, and waking in about half an hour, inquired what time it
was.
'Just gone half after six,' replied his small friend, helping him
to sit up again.
Pages:
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876