in--as soon as I'd changed to my uniform and cap. A simple way like
that would be the best."

Sophy rose.

"Oh, I forgot----" she said.

"It won't take me fifteen minutes," said Anne cheerfully. "That's my box
now, I fancy."

The small black box was brought in, and Sophy left her to change her
dress.

Bellamy was due in half an hour now. She went to report her impression
of the nurse to Lady Wychcote, who had asked her to do so. She was still
in her bedroom being made up for the day by her French maid. Louise was
dismissed and Sophy sketched a little picture of the nurse for her
mother-in-law. Lady Wychcote was dissatisfied that Anne Harding was so
small.

"However," she said on second thoughts, "those eft-like creatures have
the sharpest brains sometimes. Perhaps it's just as well."

Sophy, looking at her "morning face," realised that she was using less
rouge than usual, though she always used it with discretion. To-day she
was almost pale. This harmonising of her complexion with the
circumstance struck Sophy as drearily droll.

A servant knocked at the door to say that Dr. Bellamy had come. They
sent word to Nurse Harding, and went down together.

It was still raining.

XXII

After Anne Harding had been twenty-four hours on the case, she came to
Sophy, who was writing letters in the library. Just to address the
envelope to Charlotte, which she did beforehand, comforted her. How real
and home-like looked the familiar names! There was her house of refuge
when--if ever--she could escape. But she told nothing of her husband's
condition to Charlotte.

"Can we go where it's quite private, Mrs. Chesney?" said Anne Harding.
"I've some things I must talk to you about."

Sophy took the nurse up to her bedroom and locked the door.

"What is it?" she asked, fixing her dilated eyes on the shrewd black
ones.

"Please don't look so frightened," said Anne kindly. "It's just the
usual worries in a case like this. I've talked with Dr. Bellamy already;
but I must have your help."

"Go on, please," said Sophy.

Anne took up the poker, and began breaking the big lump of coal in the
grate as she said this. Little spirals of greenish-yellow smoke escaped
from the cracks made by the poker, then jetted into flame. She was so
sorry for this beautiful, scared woman, that she looked doggedly at the
lump of coal all the time that she was speaking.

"It's just that Mr. Chesney is getting extra morphia--I mean takin