bid him good-night.

"Anne," he said gently, "I just want you to know, dear, that Nap will be
all right. Don't be anxious any. There is no need."

He desired to reassure her, she saw; and she bent and kissed him. And
then for a moment a queer gust of passion possessed her, shook her from
head to foot.

"Oh, Luke," she whispered, "can't you send him away again?"

He looked up at her oddly, with eyes that seemed to see beyond her. And
then, "Good-night, dear," he said, as if he had not heard.

She turned from him in silence. It was the first time she had ever
appealed to Lucas Errol in vain.

She went to her room early that night. She told herself she must leave on
the morrow. She was urged by a deep unrest. She could not remain under
the same roof with this man who had once so cruelly tortured her. She
could not. Lucas must understand this. He must never ask it of her,
never--never!

She did not in the least understand the latter's attitude. The more she
thought of it, the more it troubled her. She felt as if he had suddenly
ceased to be on her side, had, as it were, shut off his sympathy and left
her groping and alone. It was not like him to treat her thus. It hurt her
subtly, wounding her as she had never expected to be wounded, shaking her
faith in what she had ever believed to be immutable. And then she
remembered the physical weakness with which he had wrestled so long, and
a great pity flooded her heart. She would not let herself be hurt any
longer. Was he not reserving his strength for her sake? And could she
not, for his, face bravely this sudden obstacle that had arisen in her
path? Moreover, had he not told her that all would be well? And he had
said it as one who knew. Why, then, was she harbouring this wild dismay?

Why? Why? She asked the question, but she did not seek the answer. She
dared not.

And yet in the morning she went down with a calm aspect, resolute and
unafraid. Once more she was compelling herself to do simply that which
lay nearest to her hand.

Nap came out of a room near the foot of the stairs as she descended.
He scarcely looked at her, but quite obviously he had been awaiting
her coming.

"May I have two words with you before you join the mater?" he asked.

With her whole soul she wanted to refuse. Yet without visible hesitation
she yielded. She turned aside into the room he had just quitted.

He followed, and, closing the door, came forward to the table. It was
littered wi