reply.

'I believe you; and if ever I have the chance I will repeat what you
say.'

'Very well. But there's something else. I don't ask you to see anything
of Sibyl, or to let your wife see her; it will be much better not. I
don't know whether she will stay here, or in London at all; but she
will see as few people as possible. Don't think it necessary to write
to her; don't let your wife write. If we all live through it--and come
out again on the other side--things may be all right again; but I don't
look forward to anything. All I can think of now is that I've killed a
man who was a good friend to me, and have darkened all the rest of
Sibyl's life. And I only wish someone had knocked my brains out ten
years ago, when nobody would have missed such a blackguard and ruffian.'

'Is it on your wife's account, or on ours that you want us to keep
apart?' asked Rolfe gravely.

'Both, my dear fellow,' was the equally grave reply. 'I'm saying only
what I mean; it's no time for humbug now. Think it over, and you'll see
I'm right.'

'Alma won't see any one just yet awhile,' said Harvey. 'She has made
herself ill, of course.'

'Ill? How?'

'The concert, and the frenzy that went before it.'

'The concert----.' Carnaby touched his forehead. 'I remember. If I were
you, Rolfe----'

'Well?'

'I don't want to take advantage of my position and be impertinent but
do you think that kind of thing will do her any good in the end?'

'It's going to stop,' replied Harvey, with a meaning nod.

'I'm glad to hear you say so--very glad. Just stick to that. You're
more civilised than I am, and you'll know how to go about that kind of
thing as a man should.'

'I mean to try.'

'She is not seriously ill, I hope?' Hugh inquired, after reflecting for
a moment.

'Oh, the nerves--breakdown--nothing dangerous, I believe.'

'Life ought to be easy enough for you, Rolfe,' said the other. 'You're
at home here.'

'It depends what you mean by "here". I'm at home in England, no doubt;
but it's very uncertain whether I shall hold out in London. You know
that we're going west to Gunnersbury. That's on the child's account; I
want him to go to school with a friend of ours. If we can live there
quietly and sanely, well and good; if the whirlpool begins to drag us
in again--then I have another idea.'

'The whirlpool!' muttered Carnaby, with a broken laugh. 'It's got hold
of _me_, and I'm going down, old man--and it looks black as hell.'

'We