inquisitive, but stupid, animals over
the floor.

If, in that flood of unintelligible thoughts, anything clearly recurred
at all, it was the memory of Sheila. He saw her face, lit, transfigured,
distorted, stricken, appealing, horrified. His lids narrowed; a vague
terror and horror mastered him. He hid his eyes in his hands and cried
without sound, without tears, without hope, like a desolate child. He
ceased crying; and sat without stirring. And it seemed after an age of
vacancy and meaninglessness he heard a door shut downstairs, a distant
voice, and then the rustle of some one slowly ascending the stairs. Some
one turned the handle; in vain; tapped. 'Is that you, Arthur?'

For an instant Lawford paused, then like a child listening for an echo,
answered, 'Yes, Sheila.' And a sigh broke from him; his voice, except
for a little huskiness, was singularly unchanged.

'May I come in?' Lawford stood softly up and glanced once more into the
glass. His lips set tight, and a slight frown settled between the long,
narrow, intensely dark eyes.

'Just one moment, Sheila,' he answered slowly, 'just one moment.'

'How long will you be?'

He stood erect and raised his voice, gazing the while impassively into
the glass.

'It's no use,' he began, as if repeating a lesson, 'it's no use your
asking me, Sheila. Please give me a moment, a...I am not quite myself,
dear,' he added quite gravely.

The faintest hint of vexation was in the answer.

'What is the matter? Can't I help? It's so very absurd--'

'What is absurd?' he asked dully.

'Why, standing like this outside my own bedroom door. Are you ill? I
will send for Dr. Simon.'

'Please, Sheila, do nothing of the kind. I am not ill. I merely want
a little time to think in.' There was again a brief pause, and then a
slight rattling at the handle.

'Arthur, I insist on knowing at once what's wrong; this does not sound a
bit like yourself. It is not even quite like your own voice.'

'It is myself,' he replied stubbornly, staring fixedly into the glass.
You must give me a few moments, Sheila. Something has happened. My face.
Come back in an hour.'

'Don't be absurd; it's simply wicked to talk like that. How do I know
what you are doing? As if I can leave you for an hour in uncertainty!
Your face! If you don't open at once I shall believe there's something
seriously wrong: I shall send Ada for assistance.'

'If you do that, Sheila, it will be disastrous. I cannot answer fo