Her voice trembled . `` Does -- does Wesley Brooke live here ? '' she asked . The girl nodded . `` Yes . But he is very ill at present . Nobody is allowed to see him . '' Theodosia put up her hand and loosened her bonnet strings as if they were choking her . She had been sick with the fear that Wesley would be dead before she got to him . The relief was almost overwhelming . `` But I must see him , '' she cried hysterically -- she , the calm , easy-going Dosia , hysterical -- `` I am his wife -- and oh , if he had died before I got here ! '' The nurse came forward . `` In that case I suppose you must , '' she conceded . `` But he does not expect you . I must prepare him for the surprise . '' She turned to the door of a room opening off the kitchen , but Theodosia , who had hardly heard her , was before her . She was inside the room before the nurse could prevent her . Then she stood , afraid and trembling , her eyes searching the dim apartment hungrily . When they fell on the occupant of the bed Theodosia started in bitter surprise . All unconsciously she had been expecting to find Wesley as he had been when they parted .
Could this gaunt , haggard creature , XXXXX the unkempt beard and prematurely grey hair and the hollow , beseeching eyes , be the ruddy , boyish-faced husband of her youth ?
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