It was unnecessary. He was asleep. Isobel relieved her soon afterwards.“Fergus will be looking in soon,” she said as she reached the door. “And you must call me if you feel uncertain, Isobel.”“I will.” Isobel had already taken up her position at the far side of the bed, her face half in shadow and half revealed by the low-burning lamp. “But I feel he will get well now.”Alison closed the door gently behind her. Poor Isobel, she thought; she’s in love with him.Before she reached the bedroom which Isobel had put at her disposal a door opened half-way along the corridor and Fergus’ tall figure emerged. He still wore the long grey dressing-gown, but he had shaved and looked ready for the day’s work.“If you have a minute to spare, Alison,” he said.She hesitated, and he led the way to the door of her room. “Isobel brought you up a flask,” he said, “and I’ve left something on your table to take when you get into bed.”A fire had been lit in the room, and she knew, somehow, that he had done that small service for her himself.“Thank you,”
