go away! You make a fool of me
again! I had almost forgotten how to be sorry that you couldn't love me.
Go away, go away! Go, go!"

He threw out his hands, and they lay along the grass. His face went down
into the tangled green, and she saw his shoulders shaken with sobs. She
dragged herself along the grass till she was close to him; then she
lifted his shoulders, and drew his head on to her lap, and clasped her
arms round him.

"My darling, my dear, my own!" she said. "You're tired, and you've
thought of nothing but your hateful book--your beautiful book, I
mean--but you do love me really. Not as I love you, but still you do
love me. Oh, Rupert, I'll nurse you, I'll take care of you, I'll be your
slave; and if you have to die, I shall die too, because there'll be
nothing left for me to do for you."

He put an arm round her. "It's worth dying to hear that," he said, and
brought his face to lie against her waist.

"But you shan't die. You must come back to London with me now--this
minute. The best opinion----"

"I had the best," he said. "Kiss me, my Pretty; oh, kiss me now that it
does mean something! Let me dream that I'm going to live, and that you
love me."

He lifted his face, and she kissed him.

"Rupert, you're _not_ going to die. It can't be true. It isn't true. It
shan't be true."

"It is; but I don't mind now, except for you. I'm a selfish beast. But
this is worth it all, and I _have_ done something great. You told me
to."

"Tell me," she said, "who was the doctor? Was he really the best?"

"It was Strongitharm," he said wearily.

She drew a long breath and clasped him closer. Then she pushed him away
and sprang to her feet.

"Stand up!" she said. "Let me look at you!"

He stood up, and she caught him by the elbows and stood looking at him.
Twice she tried to speak, and twice no voice obeyed; then she said
softly, huskily: "Rupert, listen! It's all a horrid dream. Wake up.
Haven't you seen the papers? Strongitharm went mad several months ago.
It was drink. He told _all_ his patients they were going to die of this
new disease of his that he'd invented. It's all his madness. You're
well--I know it. Oh, Rupert, you aren't going to die, and we love each
other! Oh, God is very good!"

He drew a long breath.

"Are you sure? It's like coming back from chloroform; and yet it hurts,
and yet--but I wrote the book! Oh, Sybil, I shall never write another
great book!"

"Ah yes, you will--you shall," s