Twice he turned back to wave his hand to her, then disappeared, whistling
into the darkness. She knelt beside her bed for a long time that night,
and finally fell into a deep, quiet sleep, her hand clasping the little
star that hung about her throat.
Three hours later she was abruptly awakened, and sat up, confused and
startled, to find Austin leaning over her, shaking her gently, and
calling her name in a low, troubled voice.
"What is it? What has happened?" she murmured drowsily, reaching
instinctively for the dressing-gown which lay at the foot of the bed.
Austin had already begun to wrap it around her.
"Forgive me, sweetheart, for disturbing you--and for coming in like
this. I tried the telephone, and called you over and over again
outside your window--you must have been awfully sound asleep. I was at
my wits' end, and couldn't think of anything to do but this--are you
very angry with me?"
"No, no--why did you need me?"
"Oh, Sylvia, it's Edith! She's terribly sick, and she keeps begging for
you so that I just _had_ to come and get you! She was all right at
supper-time--it's so sudden and violent that--"
Sylvia had slipped out of bed as if hardly conscious that he was beside
her.
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