departure. Stella was at the window,
looping back the curtains. The vague sunlight still smote across the
dripping compound; the whole plain was smoking like a mighty cauldron.
Stella finished her task and stood still.

Across the silence came Monck's voice. "Aren't you going to give me my
medicine?"

She turned slowly round. "I think you are nearly equal to doctoring
yourself now," she said.

He was lying raised on his elbow, his eyes, intent and searching, fixed
upon her. Abruptly, in a different tone, he spoke. "In other words, quit
fooling and play the game!" he said. "All right, I will--to the best of
my ability. First of all, may I tell you something that Ralston said to
me this morning?"

"Certainly." Stella's voice sounded constrained and formal. She remained
with her back to the window; for some reason she did not want him to see
her face too clearly.

"It was only this," said Monck. "He said that I had you to thank for
pulling me through this business, that but for you I should probably
have gone under. Ralston isn't given to saying that sort of thing.
So--if you will allow me--I should like to thank you for the trouble you
have taken and for the service rendered."

"Please don't!" Stella said. "After all, it was no more than you did for
Tommy, nor so much." She spoke nervously, avoiding his look.

The shadow of a smile crossed Monck's face. "I chance to be rather fond
of Tommy," he said, "so my motive was more or less a selfish one. But
you had not that incentive, so I should be all the more grateful. I am
afraid I have given you a lot of trouble. Have you found me very
difficult to manage?"

He put the question suddenly, almost imperiously. Stella was conscious
of a momentary surprise. There was something in the tone rather than the
words that puzzled her. She hesitated over her reply.

"You have?" said Monck. "That means I have been very unruly. Do you mind
telling me what happened on the night I was taken ill?"

She felt a burning blush rush up to her face and neck before she could
check it. It was impossible to attempt to hide her distress from him.
She forced herself to speak before it overwhelmed her. "I would rather
not discuss it or think of it. You were not yourself, and I--and I--"

"And you?" said Monck, his voice suddenly sunk very low.

She commanded herself with a supreme effort. "I wish to forget it," she
said with firmness.

He was silent for a moment or two. She began to wonde