She had made progress.

She would let her medicine work.
"I'm going to bed, my dear.

I'm sixty-five, and I take my sleep when I can get it.

Think it over, Sicily--Cairo!" She left the room, saying to herself that Eglington was a fool, and that danger was ahead.

"But I hold a red light--poor darling!" she said aloud, as she went up the staircase.