el had not liked
Gerald to be so assured. She was pleased, now, in going downstairs, that
Gerald Digby should find, for once, and at a moment of real need, that
Helen could not see him.

He was standing before the fire, his eyes on the door, and as she looked
at him Miss Grizel experienced a certain softening of mood. She decided
that she had, to some extent, misjudged Gerald; he had, then, capacity
for caring deeply. Miss Jakes's defection had knocked him about badly.
There was kindness in her voice as she said: 'Good morning,' and gave
him her hand.

But Gerald was not thinking of her or of her kindness. 'Where is Helen?'
he asked, shaking and then automatically retaining her hand.

'You can't see Helen to-day,' said Miss Grizel, a little nettled by the
open indifference. 'She is not at all well. This whole affair, as you
may imagine, has been singularly painful for her to go through. She asks
me to tell you that she can see nobody for a long time. We are going
away; we are going to the Riviera,' said Miss Grizel, making the resolve
on the spot.

Gerald held her hand and looked at her with a feverish unseeing gaze. 'I
must see Helen,' he said.

'My dear Gerald,' Miss Grizel disengaged her hand and went to a chair,
'this really isn't an occasion for musts. Helen has had a shock as well
as you, and you certainly shan't see her.'

'Does she say I shan't?'

Miss Grizel's smile was again grim. 'She says you shan't, and so do I.
She's not fit to see anybody.'

Gerald looked at her for another moment and then turned to the
writing-table. 'I beg your pardon; I don't mean to be rude. Only I
really must see her. Do you mind my writing a line? Will you have it
taken to her?'

'Certainly,' said Miss Grizel, compressing her lips.

Gerald sat down and wrote, quickly, yet carefully, pausing between the
sentences and fixing the same unseeing gaze on the garden. He then rose
and gave the note to Miss Grizel, who, ringing, gave it to the maid,
after which she and Gerald remained sitting on opposite sides of the
room in absolute silence for quite a long while.

Gerald's note had been short. 'Don't be so unspeakably cruel,' it ran,
without preamble. 'You know, don't you, that it has all turned out
perfectly? Althea has thrown me over and taken Kane. I've made them
happy at all events. As for us--O Helen, you must see me. I can't wait.
I can't wait for an hour. I beseech you to come. Only let me see
you.--GERALD.'

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