Leaving them for a moment, Edith went to talk to Dulcie.
'How do you think he's getting on?' she said.
'He's getting well; gradually. He seems a little nervous the last day or
so.'
'Do you think he's been seeing too many people?'
'He hasn't seen more than the doctor has allowed. But, do you know, Mrs.
Ottley, I think it depends a great deal who the people are.'
She waited a moment and then went on in a low voice:
'You do him more good than anyone. You see, he's known you so long,' she
added gently, 'and so intimately. It's no strain--I mean he hasn't got
to make conversation.'
'Yes, I see,' said Edith.
'Mr. Ross hasn't any near relations--no mother or sister. You seem to
take their place--if you understand what I mean.'
Edith thought it charmingly tactful of her to put it like that.
'I'm sure _you_ take their place,' Edith said.
Dulcie looked down.
'Oh, of course, he hasn't to make any effort with me. But then _I_ don't
amuse him, and he wants amusement, and change. It's a great bore for a
man like that--so active mentally, and in every way--to have to lie
perfectly still, especially when he has no companion but me.
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