"Why are you ringing?" Mr. Reffold asked testily.
"To send a message of excuse," she answered, with provoking cheerfulness.
She scribbled something on a card, and gave it to the servant who
answered the bell.
"Now," she said, with great sweetness of manner. And she sat down beside
him, drew out her fancy-work, and worked away contentedly. She would
have made a charming study of a devoted wife soothing a much-loved
husband in his hours of sickness and weariness.
"Do you mind giving up your drive?" he asked.
"Not in the least," she replied. "I am rather tired of sledging."
"You soon get tired of things, Winifred," he said.
"Yes, I do," was the answer. "I am so easily bored. I am quite tired of
this place."
"You will have to stay here a little longer," he said, "and then you
will be free to go where you choose. I wish I could die quicker for you,
Winifred."
Mrs. Reffold looked up from her embroidery.
"You will get better soon," she said. "You are better."
"Yes, you've helped a good deal to make me better," he said bitterly.
"You have been a most unselfish person haven't you? You have given me
every care and attention, haven't you?"
"You seem to me in a very strange mood to-day," she said, looking
puzzled.
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