not once, but a hundred times over in the
days to come, he would have cause to be thankful for a wife who could be
a partner in deed as well as in name. He thought of Teresa's voice as
she said: "I should have liked to nurse you, Dane!" and felt a pang of
remorse. He hoped he had not been inconsiderate. He hoped the dear
girl was not hurt. He would write her a line in the morning and explain
that... that really... Well, hang it! it was simple enough... There
was only one spare room at the Cottage. Where could the masseur have
slept? There were many adequate reasons for his choice which he could
advance in a letter; now that he was quietly settled in bed they crowded
into his mind, but looking back at the moment of decision, he knew he
had acted from no definite reason, but simply from an overpowering
desire. The chance of staying at the Court had been given him. It was
not in him to refuse.

The next morning immediately after his treatment Peignton was wheeled
into an upstairs sitting-room, where his couch was placed in a window
affording a view of the terraced gardens. Cassandra came in dressed for
driving, made a few arrangements for his comfort, and immediately
disappeared; later on the Squire lounged in, smoked a pipe, and
discussed items in the morning paper, and disappeared in his turn. By
noon Dane was alone, and the hour and a half before luncheon hung
heavily. Luncheon was served to him in his room,--a solitary repast,
and the sense of disappointment grew when the table was cleared, and
still no one appeared to bear him company. Books and papers galore were
within reach, an electric bell would at any moment summon an attendant,
but a man accustomed to an outdoor life soon wearies of reading, and as
minute after minute ticked away, Peignton became conscious of an
overpowering impatience. He threw down his book, seized the electric
bell, and pressed his finger on the button. In less than two minutes a
manservant appeared in the doorway. "Is the Squire in the house?"

"I am not sure, sir. I will enquire."

"Ask him to come up, will you? Tell him I'm lonely."

The man bowed, and retired. Five minutes passed, and the sound of light
footsteps was heard from without; the door opened and Cassandra looked
at him, smiling under raised brows.

"Not asleep?"

"Asleep! Why should I be asleep?"

"Invalids always sleep after lunch."

"I'm not an invalid. I'm a well man tied by the leg. I don't