there is not one among us who is willing to take the chance, if that is a
guide to you. That's all, my boy. Good-bye. God be with you!"

They passed out of and away from the house.

CHAPTER XII

In the course of the evening, desolated by the ugly responsibility that
had been thrust upon him, Braden put aside his scruples, his antipathy,
and sent word to Anne that he would like to discuss the new situation with
her. She had not appeared for dinner, which was a doleful affair; she did
not even favour him with an apology for not coming down. Distasteful as
the interview promised to be for him, he realised that it should not be
postponed. His grandfather's wife would have to be consulted. It was her
right to decide who should attend the sick man. While he was acutely
confident that she would not oppose his solitary attendance, there still
struggled in his soul the hope that she might, for the sake of appearances
at least, insist on calling in other physicians. It was a hope that he
dared not encourage, however. Fate had settled the matter. It was ordained
that he should stand where he now stood in this unhappy hour.

He recalled his grandfather's declaration that she still loved him. The
thought turned him sick with loathing, for he believed in his heart that
it was true. He knew that Anne loved him, and always would love him. But
he also knew that every vestige of love and respect for her had gone out
of his heart long ago and that he now felt only the bitterness of
disillusionment so far as she was concerned. He was not afraid of her. She
had lost all power to move a single drop of blood in his veins. But he was
afraid _for_ her.

She came downstairs at nine o'clock. He had not gone near the sick-room
since his initial visit, earlier in the day, literally obeying the command
of the sick man: to talk matters over with Anne before coming again to see
him.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," she said simply, as she advanced
into the room. "I have been talking over the telephone with my mother. She
does not come here any more. It has been nearly three weeks since she last
came to see me. The dread of it all, don't you know. She is positive that
she has all of the symptoms. I suppose it is a not uncommon fault of the
imagination. Of course, I go to see her every afternoon. I see no one
else, Braden, except good old Simmy Dodge. He stops in nearly every day to
inquire, and to cheer me up if possible."

She