A great bouquet of roses which Nick had sent that morning now lay on a
side table, and into the flower bowl they had adorned he poured the
lime-water. In this he soaked the gamgee tissue (Angela had never heard of
the stuff before), and bade her hold out both hands. Then he bound them
quickly and skilfully, intent on what he was doing, though his head was
bent closer to Angela's than it had ever been before, and the fragrance of
her hair was sweet, as in his dreams of angels. As for her, she felt a
childlike confidence in his ability to cure her, to save her from harm.
Over the tissue, wet with lime-water, Nick wrapped bandages of lint; and
the operation finished, Angela was as helpless as if she had pulled on a
pair of tight, thick gloves whose fingers would not bend.
"Does this mean that we aren't to go to-night?" she asked mournfully.
"I hope it doesn't mean that. But we can't be dead certain yet," answered
Nick. He looked at her searchingly, his face drawn and anxious; but it
relaxed as if he were suddenly relieved from some great strain as his eyes
travelled over the smooth, pure features, and met her questioning gaze at
last with assurance.
"If we are not certain soon, it will be too late to start, and I can't
bear to put off going.
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