you tell them about the dreams?"

Leonie leant listlessly against the arm of the chair, and sighed as she
flashed a lightning glance at her aunt who was turning over a
periodical on a table by her side.

"I don't tell Nannie because I think she wouldn't weally understand,
and--and----"

Silence.

"Well, darling?"

"Auntie," she spoke in the merest whisper, "got awful cwoss the first
time I did tell her. She was going out to a dance, and I was telling
her whilst she was dwessing--it was a lovely dwess all sparkles and
little wosebuds--and I upset a bottle of scent over her gloves. The
scent too was like my dweams, just like--like--oh! I don't know, and I
haven't any!"

Once more the man intuitively bridged the gulf.

"No little friends? How's that?"

"Bimba died," she announced casually. "She liked books, too. It's
vewy silly thinking dolls are babies, isn't it; that's why I love
weading, it--it seems weal!"

Lady Hetth broke in hurriedly.

"We simply can't keep her away from books when she's in town. Of
course when we are in the country she simply lives out of doors. It is
very difficult to keep her amused. She sulks when she goes to a party
and always wants to go home!"

"I don't sulk weally, Auntie, I jus'--jus' don' seem to know how to
play!"

She smiled a wan little smile at the woman who had no children of her
own, and moved away slowly with a backward doggy look at the man.

"Good God!" he muttered. "Will you come here, Lady Hetth!"

CHAPTER II

"When your fear cometh as a desolation."--_The Bible_.

Susan Hetth rose.

She had always intensely disliked her brother-in-law's old friend,
failing utterly to perceive the heart of gold studded with rare gems
that was hidden under a bushel of intentional brusqueness.

But as she was under an obligation to him she decided to make herself
as pleasant as possible, and to obey his orders, however irksome.

Great brain specialist, great philanthropist, she had rung him up in a
panic that morning after having vainly ransacked her memory for some
other human being in whom she could with safety confide her fear, and
from whom she could expect some meed of succour.

She knew, as everybody knew, that years ago he had given up the hours
of consultation which had seen his Harley Street waiting-room filled to
overflowing; that little by little, bit by bit, indeed, he had given
himself up entirely to research work, travelling in every quar