But even then Vincent did not rouse himself.
"She knows her business," he said admiringly.
To any other invalid Adelaide could have been a soothing visitor, could have adapted the quick turns of her mind to the relaxed attention of the sick; but, honestly enough, there seemed to her an impertinence, almost an insult, in treating Vincent in such a way.

The result was that her visits were exhausting, and she knew it.

And yet, she said to herself, he was ill, not insane; how could she conceal from him the happenings of every day?
Vincent would be the last person to be grateful to her for that.
She saw him one day grow pale; his eyes began to close.

She had made up her mind to leave him when Miss Gregory came in, and with a quicker eye and a more active habit of mind, said at once: "I think Mr.Farron has had enough excitement for one day." Adelaide smiled up at the girl almost insolently.
"Is a visit from a wife an excitement ?" she asked.

Miss Gregory was perfectly grave.
"The greatest," she said.
Adelaide yielded to her own irritation.
"Well," she said, "I shan't stay much longer." "It would be better if you went now, I think, Mrs.Farron." Adelaide looked at Vincent.