s, thermometer, everything she had
which could serve in illness. Changing to a plain dress, she took up the
valise and returned to Barbara. They went out together to the cab. The
moment it began to bear her to this ordeal at once so longed-for and so
terrible, fear came over her again, so that she screwed herself into the
corner, very white and still. She was aware of Barbara calling to the
driver: "Go by the Strand, and stop at a poulterer's for ice!" And, when
the bag of ice had been handed in, heard her saying: "I will bring you
all you want--if he is really going to be ill."

Then, as the cab stopped, and the open doorway of the staircase was
before her, all her courage came back.

She felt the girl's warm hand against her own, and grasping her valise
and the bag of ice, got out, and hurried up the steps.

CHAPTER IX

On leaving Nettlefold, Miltoun had gone straight back to his rooms, and
begun at once to work at his book on the land question. He worked all
through that night--his third night without sleep, and all the following
day. In the evening, feeling queer in the head, he went out and
walked up and down the Embankment. Then, fearing to go to bed and lie
sleepless, he sat down in his arm-chair. Falling asleep there, he had
fearful dreams, and awoke unrefreshed. After his bath, he drank coffee,
and again forced himself to work. By the middle of the day he felt dizzy
and exhausted, but utterly disinclined to eat. He went out into the hot
Strand, bought himself a necessary book, and after drinking more coffee,
came back and again began to work. At four o'clock he found that he was
not taking in the words. His head was burning hot, and he went into his
bedroom to bathe it. Then somehow he began walking up and down, talking
to himself, as Barbara had found him.

She had no sooner gone, than he felt utterly exhausted. A small crucifix
hung over his bed, and throwing himself down before it, he remained
motionless with his face buried in the coverlet, and his arms stretched
out towards the wall. He did not pray, but merely sought rest from
sensation. Across his half-hypnotized consciousness little threads
of burning fancy kept shooting. Then he could feel nothing but utter
physical sickness, and against this his will revolted. He resolved that
he would not be ill, a ridiculous log for women to hang over. But the
moments of sickness grew longer and more frequent; and to drive them
away he rose from his knees