s quite inflamed."

"It's a beastly nuisance, it keeps catching in things and tearing open
again. I haven't had a bandage on it since----" He left the sentence
unfinished, for it had brought up memories of Esther. "Oh, well, it's
nothing serious. Still, I had better let Sartorius attend to it, I
suppose--sterilise it and so forth. Don't you think? He was after me
this morning about the risk I was running of getting it infected, but I
wouldn't wait."

He was pleased to have thought of this; he felt it made a sort of
amends to Therese for the blow he had dealt her--if it was a blow. He
was glad to see that she looked slightly gratified, it mitigated his
guilty feeling.

"It is just as well to look after that sort of thing," Miss Clifford
remarked placidly. "I can't help recalling poor Smithers, one of your
father's foremen, who got a scratch from a bit of wire on one of the
looms and died two weeks later of blood-poisoning."

As she spoke the door to the hall opened and the doctor came in,
greeting the three with his usual phlegmatic calm. His presence put an
immediate pall on the conversation which Miss Clifford made an effort
to lift.

"Any news?" she inquired. "I suppose you have had no word from our
Miss Rowe?"

He turned a speculative eye upon her, pausing a moment as if trying to
recall who Miss Rowe could be.

"Miss Rowe!" he repeated vaguely, moving towards the fire. "No, I have
heard nothing. But then I have no reason to believe she will take the
trouble to communicate with me."

The slight emphasis on the final word annoyed Roger, who glanced at the
doctor keenly, wondering what was in the man's methodical, unemotional
mind. Was he keeping something back? Did he know more of Esther than
he was willing to say? It had not occurred to him until now.

Therese made a sudden graceful and impulsive movement.

"Doctor--will you be good enough to look at Mr. Clifford's hand? I am
sure his thumb should be attended to at once: it really is in a
shocking state."

Roger held out his injured hand for inspection. Very deliberately the
big man adjusted the nearest lamp so that its rays shone where he
wished them, then he bent his head and frowningly examined the wound.
He took so long about the matter that Miss Clifford put down her
knitting to watch. Could anything be wrong? Roger himself began at
last to wonder. He submitted quietly while Sartorius felt his arm at
intervals exploringly up to