No talking."
"Sorry, but I must see Miss Barbour." In Van Landing's voice was sharp
fear. "Christmas isn't over yet? I haven't missed it, have I? Are you
sure she's in this house?"
"Sure. She's getting ready for to-morrow. To-morrow will be the
busiest day in the year. It's Christmas eve."
Van Landing slipped down in the bed and his face went deep in the
pillows. Reaction was on. A horrible fear that he was going to cry,
going to do some abominably childish thing, made him stuff the
covering in his mouth and press his feet hard against the foot of the
bed. He would _not_ be cheated out of Christmas! He had believed he
hated it, thought he wanted to be dead during it, and now if it were
over and nothing done--Presently he spoke.
"Will you ask Miss Barbour if I may speak to her in the
morning--before she goes out? My name is Van Landing--Stephen Van
Landing. I was a friend of hers once."
"One now." The doctor's voice was dryly emphatic. "Lucky she
recognized you. Rather startled her, finding an old friend so
unexpectedly." Over his spectacles his kind, shrewd eyes looked down
on the man in the bed.
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