She had acquired a passion
for dictating, for arranging, and setting in order. The crooked seams
which she had just pinned straight gave her a satisfaction that almost
counteracted her annoyance at the informality of her reception.
Once established at the Doctor's bedside, with the nurse detailed to
exercise Fanchonette in the yard below, she gave herself up to the
pleasure of recounting at length her troubles of the past few months.
She enjoyed talking, as a prima donna enjoys singing: she loved to
hear the cadences of her own voice, and to watch the gestures of her
jeweled hands.
"It's an unspeakable relief," she assured the Doctor, "to actually see
with my own eyes that you aren't a mangled cripple from the terrible
wreck! You can't imagine how frightfully anxious I've been, but then
this whole spring has been a veritable nightmare. Donald and Lee
Dillingham both involved in this unspeakable scrape, Margery on the
verge of nervous prostration, you perhaps fatally injured, and Basil
Sequin too engrossed in his own affairs to give mine a moment's
consideration."
"Basil has grave responsibilities as president of the People's Bank,
Katherine," said the Doctor, keeping his fingers between the leaves of
the massive volume which he had regretfully closed at her entrance.
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