He kept
his eyes closed, but they knew that he was conscious by the heavy frown
that drew his forehead. Once Avery offered him more brandy, but he
refused it impatiently, and she desisted.

The deathly pallor had, however, begun to give place to a more natural
hue, and as the minutes passed his breathing gradually grew less
distressed. Once more his eyes opened, and he stared into Avery's face.

"Help me--to sit up!" he commanded.

They did their best, he struggling with piteously feeble efforts to
help himself. Finally he managed to drag himself to a leaning position
on one elbow, though for several seconds thereafter his gasping was
terrible to hear.

Avery saw his lips move several times before any sound came from them. At
length, "Send--that boy--away!" he gasped out.

Avery and Ronald looked at each other, and the boy got to his feet with
an undecided air.

"Do you hear? Go!" rapped out Sir Beverley.

"Shall I, Avery?" whispered Ronald.

She nodded. "Yes, just a little way! I'll call you if I want you."

And half-reluctantly Ronald obeyed.

"Has he gone?" asked Sir Beverley.

"Yes." Avery remained on her knees beside him. He looked as if he might
collapse at any moment.

For awhile he lay struggling for breath with his face towards the ground;
then very suddenly his strength seemed to return. He raised his head and
regarded her piercingly.

"You," he said curtly, "are the young woman who refused to marry my
grandson."

The words were so totally unexpected that Avery literally gasped with
astonishment. To be taken to task on this subject was an ordeal for which
she was wholly unprepared.

"Well?" he said irritably. "That is so, I believe? You did refuse to
marry him?"

"Yes," Avery admitted, feeling the hot colour flood her face under the
merciless scrutiny of the stone-grey eyes.

"But--but--"

"Well?" he said again, still more irritably. "But what?"

"Oh, need we discuss it?" she said appealingly. "I would so much
rather not."

"I desire to discuss it," said Sir Beverley autocratically. "I desire
to know--what objection you have to my grandson. Many women, let me
tell you, of far higher social standing than yourself would jump at
such a chance. But you--you take upon yourself to refuse it. I desire
to know why."

He spoke with a stubbornness that overbore all bodily weakness. He would
be a tyrant to his last breath.

But Avery could not bring herself to answer him. She felt as if he