n Avery is well enough, let them go away together, will you? It
will do them both good."

"It's dear of you to think of it," said Mrs. Lorimer wistfully. "Yes, it
did do Jeanie good in the autumn. But Avery--"

"It will do Avery good too," he said. "She can take that cottage at
Stanbury Cliffs for the whole summer if she likes. Tell her to! And look
here! Will you take her a message from me?"

"A written message?" asked Mrs. Lorimer.

He pulled out a pocket-book. "Six words," he said. He scrawled them, tore
out the leaf and gave it to her, holding it up before her eyes that she
might read it.

"Good-bye till you send for me. Piers."

"That's all," he said. "Thanks awfully. She'll understand that. And
now--I say, you're not going to cry any more, are you?" He shook his head
at her with a laugh in his eyes. "You really mustn't. You're much too
tender-hearted. I say, it was a pity about the baby, what? I thought the
baby might have made a difference. But it'll be all the same presently.
She's wanting me really. I've known that ever since that night--you
know--ever since I held her in my arms."

He spoke with absolute simplicity. She had never liked him better than at
that moment. His boyishness had utterly disarmed her, and not till later
did she realize how completely he had masked his soul therewith.

She parted with him with a full heart, and had a strictly private little
cry on his account ere she returned to Avery. Poor lad! Poor lad! And
when he wasn't smiling, he did look so ill!

The same thought struck Crowther a few hours later as Piers sat with him
in his room, and devoted himself with considerable adroitness to making
his fire burn through as quickly as possible, the while he briefly
informed him that his wife was considered practically out of danger and
had no further use for him for the present.

Crowther's heart sank at the news though he gave no sign of dismay.

"What do you think of doing, sonny?" he asked, after a moment.

"I? Why, what is there for me to do?" Piers glanced round momentarily.
"I wonder what you'd do, Crowther," he said, with a smile that was
scarcely gay.

Crowther came to his side, and stood there massively, while he filled his
pipe. "Piers," he said, "I presume she knows all there is to know of that
bad business?"

Piers rammed the poker a little deeper into the fire and said nothing.

But Crowther had broken through the barricade of silence at last, and
would not be d