the inspiration of a new idea. "Let's play at
something," she said to Benjulia. "Do you know any games?"

He shook his head.

"Didn't you know any games, when you were only as big as me?"

"I have forgotten them."

"Haven't you got children?"

"No."

"Haven't you got a wife?"

"No."

"Haven't you got a friend?"

"No."

"Well, you _are_ a miserable chap!"

Thanks to Zo, Carmina's sense of nervous oppression burst its way
into relief. She laughed loudly and wildly--she was on the verge
of hysterics, when Benjulia's eyes, silently questioning her again,
controlled her at the critical moment. Her laughter died away. But the
exciting influence still possessed her; still forced her into the other
alternative of saying something--she neither knew nor cared what.

"I couldn't live such a lonely life as yours," she said to him--so
loudly and so confidently that even Zo noticed it.

"I couldn't live such a life either," he admitted, "but for one thing."

"And what is that?"

"Why are you so loud?" Zo interposed. "Do you think he's deaf?"

Benjulia made a sign, commanding the child to be silent--without turning
towards her. He answered Carmina as if there had been no interruption.

"My medical studies," he said, "reconcile me to my life."

"Suppose you got tired of your studies?" she asked.

"I should never get tired of them."

"Suppose you couldn't study any more?"

"In that case I shouldn't live any more."

"Do you mean that it would kill you to leave off?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean?"

He laid his great soft fingers on her pulse. She shrank from his touch;
he deliberately held her by the arm. "You're getting excited," he said.
"Never mind what I mean."

Zo, left unnoticed and not liking it, saw a chance of asserting herself.
"I know why Carmina's excited," she said. "The old woman's coming at six
o'clock."

He paid no attention to the child; he persisted in keeping watch on
Carmina. "Who is the woman?" he asked.

"The most lovable woman in the world," she cried; "my dear old nurse!"
She started up from the sofa, and pointed with theatrical exaggeration
of gesture to the clock on the mantelpiece. "Look! it's only ten minutes
to six. In ten minutes, I shall have my arms round Teresa's neck.
Don't look at me in that way! It's your fault if I'm excited. It's your
dreadful eyes that do it. Come here, Zo! I want to give you a kiss." She
seized on Zo with a roughness that startled the child,