ith white. It sent such a
shock through her as no word or action of his could have caused.

She stood for a moment gazing at him in stiff inaction. Then, still
stiffly, she held out her hand. But she could not utter a word. She felt
as if she were going to burst into tears.

He took the hand. His dark eyes interrogated her, but they told her
nothing. "It's all right," he said rapidly. "I'm Jeanie's visitor. I
shan't forget it. It was decent of you to send. I say, you--you are not
really ill, what?"

No, she was not ill. She heard herself telling him so in a voice she did
not know. And all the while she felt as if her heart were bleeding,
bleeding to death.

He let her hand go, and straightened himself with the old free arrogance
of movement. "May I have something to eat?" he said. "Your message only
got to me this morning. I was at breakfast, and I had to leave it to
catch the train. So I've had practically nothing."

That moved her to activity. She led the way into the little parlour
where luncheon had been laid. He sat down at the table, and she waited
upon him, almost in silence, yet no longer with embarrassment.

"Aren't you going to join me?" he said.

She sat down also, and took a minute helping of cold chicken.

"I say, you're not going to eat all that!" ejaculated Piers.

She had to laugh a little, though still with that horrified sense of
tragedy at her heart.

He laughed too his careless boyish laugh, and in a moment all the
electricity of the past few moments had gone out of the atmosphere. He
leaned forward unexpectedly and transferred a wing of chicken from his
plate to hers.

"Look here, Avery! You must eat. It's absurd. So fire away like a
sensible woman!"

There was no tenderness in his tone, but, oddly, she thrilled to its
imperiousness, conscious of the old magnetism compelling her. She began
to eat in silence.

Piers ate too in his usual quick fashion, glancing at her once or twice
but making no further comment.

"Tell me about Jeanie!" he said, finally. "What has brought her to this?
Can't we do anything--take her to Switzerland or somewhere?"

Avery shook her head. "Can't you see?" she said, in a low voice.

He frowned upon her abruptly. "I see lots," he said enigmatically. "It's
quite hopeless, what? Wyndham told me as much. But--I don't believe in
hopeless things."

Avery looked at him, mystified by his tone. "She is dying," she said.

"I don't believe in death either," said