She
twisted her handkerchief for some moments. "Does it?" she asked, looking
at me directly.

"I--er--I have heard it does."

An idea had come into my mind, and I could not get rid of it. Why should
I not tell her all that I knew?

"I'm thirty-five," she remarked.

"And I'm forty-two." I tried to smile.

"Life's getting on for us both," she added.

"I know, Alice. I suggested that we should get engaged a short while
ago. Now I suggest that we get married--as soon as possible." I got up
and paced the room. "Why not?" I demanded passionately.

She shook her head, and appeared confused.

"It's impossible. Who could look after him? I should never be happy,
Richard, as long as he was living."

I stopped before her.

"Not with me?"

"No, Richard. I should be left a great deal to myself. A doctor's wife
always is. I've thought it out carefully. I would think of him."

After a long silence, I made a proposal that I had refused to entertain
before.

"Well, there's no reason why he should not come and live with us. There
is plenty of room in my house at Harley Street. Would that do?"

It was a relief to me when she said that she would not consent to an
arrangement of that kind. I sat down again.

"Alice," I said quietly, "it is necessary that we should decide our
future. There are special reasons."

She glanced at me enquiringly. There was a pause in which I tried to
collect my thoughts.

"Your father," I continued, "is suffering from a very peculiar disease.
It is wrong, perhaps, to call it a disease. You wouldn't call life a
disease, would you?"

"I don't understand."

"No, of course not. Well, to put it as simply as possible, it is likely
that your father will live a long time now. When he said he felt as if
his mind and body had been rejuvenated he was speaking the truth."

"But he will be ninety next year," she said bluntly.

"I know. But that will make no difference. This germ, that is now in his
body, has the power of arresting all further decay. Your father will
remain as he is now for an indefinite period."

I met her eyes as steadily as I could, but there was a quality in her
gaze that caused me to look elsewhere.

"How do you know this?" she asked after a painful silence.

"I--er--I can't tell you." The colour mounted to my cheeks, and I began
to tap the carpet impatiently with the toe of my boot. "You wouldn't
understand," I continued in as professional a manner as I could muster.
"You