s Bradshaw who
speaks--"when I had to make up my mind to give it up. But it couldn't
be helped!" He speaks without reserve, but as of an unbearable subject;
in fact, Sally said afterwards to Tishy, "it seemed as if he was going
to cry." He doesn't cry, though, but goes on: "At one time I really
thought I should have gone and jumped into the river."

"Why didn't you?" asks Sally. "I should have."

"Yes, silly Sally!" says Laetitia; "and then you would have swum like
a fish. And the police would have pulled you out. And you would have
looked ridiculous!"

But Sally is off on a visit to her mother in the next room.

"Tired, mammy darling?"

She kisses her, and her mother answers: "Yes, love, a little," and
kisses her back.

"Doesn't he play _beautifully_, mother?" says Sally.

But her mother says "Yes" absently. Her attention is taken off by
something else. What is wrong with Mr. Fenwick? Sally doesn't think
anything is. It's only his way.

"I'm sure there's something wrong," says Mrs. Nightingale, and gets
up to go into the front-room rather wearily. "I shall go to bed soon,
poppet," she says, "and leave you to do the honours. Is anything wrong,
doctor?" She speaks under her voice to Vereker, looking very slightly
round at Fenwick, who, after the movement that alarmed her--a rather
unusually marked head-shake and pressure of his hands on his eyes--is
standing looking down at the fire, on the rug with his back to her, as
she speaks to Vereker.

"I fancy he's had what he calls a recurrence," says the doctor. "Nothing
to hurt. These half-recollections will go on until the memory comes
back in earnest. It may some time."

"Are you talking about me, doctor?" His attention may have been caught
by a reflection in a glass before him. "Yes, it was a very queer
recurrence. Something about lawn-tennis. Only it had to do with what
Miss Wilson said about the police fishing Sally out of the water." He
looks round for Miss Wilson, but she is at the other end of the room
on a sofa talking to Bradshaw about the Strad, as recorded once before.
Sally testifies:

"Tishy said it wouldn't work--trying to drown yourself if you could
swim. No more it would."

"But why should that make me think of lawn-tennis? It did." He looks
seriously distressed by it--can make nothing out.

"Kitten," says Sally's mother to her suddenly, "I think I shall go away
to bed. I'm feeling very tired."

She says good-night comprehensively, and depar