said, "I daresay you know why I
sent for you"; on which Nick sank into the seat he had occupied the day
before, replying that he had been delighted to come, whatever the
reason. Mr. Carteret said nothing more about the division or the second
reading; he only murmured that they were keeping the newspapers for him.
"I'm rather behind--I'm rather behind," he went on; "but two or three
quiet mornings will make it all right. You can go back to-night, you
know--you can easily go back." This was the only thing not quite
straight that Nick found in him--his making light of his young friend's
flying to and fro. The young friend sat looking at him with a sense that
was half compunction and half the idea of the rare beauty of his face,
to which, strangely, the waste of illness now seemed to have restored
something of its youth. Mr. Carteret was evidently conscious that this
morning he shouldn't be able to go on long, so that he must be
practical and concise. "I daresay you know--you've only to remember," he
continued.

"I needn't tell you what a pleasure it is to me to see you--there can be
no better reason than that," was what Nick could say.

"Hasn't the year come round--the year of that foolish arrangement?"

Nick thought a little, asking himself if it were really necessary to
disturb his companion's earnest faith. Then the consciousness of the
falsity of his own position surged over him again and he replied: "Do
you mean the period for which Mrs. Dallow insisted on keeping me
dangling? Oh _that's_ over!" he almost gaily brought out.

"And are you married--has it come off?" the old man asked eagerly. "How
long have I been ill?"

"We're uncomfortable, unreasonable people, not deserving of your
interest. We're not married," Nick said.

"Then I haven't been ill so long?" his host quavered with vague relief.

"Not very long--but things _are_ different," he went on.

The old man's eyes rested on his--he noted how much larger they
appeared. "You mean the arrangements are made--the day's at hand?"

"There are no arrangements," Nick smiled. "But why should it trouble
you?"

"What then will you do--without arrangements?" The inquiry was plaintive
and childlike.

"We shall do nothing--there's nothing to be done. We're not to be
married--it's all off," said poor Nick. Then he added: "Mrs. Dallow has
gone abroad."

The old man, motionless among his pillows, gave a long groan. "Ah I
don't like that."

"No more do I, sir."