Carfax did not look in her glass again that day. For the third time
in her life she was afraid to meet her own eyes.

And all night long her brain thrummed like a vibrating wire to a voice
that sometimes pleaded but more often gibed. "Has the Queen no further
use for her jester?"

CHAPTER VII

THE UNINVITED GUEST

Spring came early that year, and the day fixed for the opening of the
Baronford Town Hall was brilliantly fine and warm. Anne was staying at
Baronmead for the event. The end of February was approaching. Lucas was
decidedly better. His sleep was becoming less broken. He suffered
considerably less; and he took a keen interest in all that passed.

On the morning before the ceremony he greeted Anne with an eagerness
that almost amounted to impatience. "Come in! Come in! I've something to
show you."

He was alone. She went to his side and kissed him.

His hands caught hers, and she marvelled at the strength of his grip.
"Sweetheart," he said, "I've had a letter from Capper."

She felt the blood ebb suddenly from her face. She stood a moment in
silence, then sat down and pressed his hand close against her heart.

"What does he say?" she asked.

He looked at her oddly for a few seconds. Then: "It's good news, dear,"
he said. "You mustn't let it scare you."

She began to smile, though her lips were trembling. "No, of course not.
Tell me what he says."

He gave her the letter and she read. Capper wrote that he had received an
excellent report from Dr. Randal of his patient's progress, that he
expected to be in England in about a fortnight and would come down
himself to ascertain if the time for the second operation had arrived. He
wrote in a cheery strain, and at the end of the letter was a postscript:
"Have you taken my advice yet with regard to _la femme_?"

"An ancient joke," explained Lucas with a smile. "He told me long ago
that I should need a woman's help to pull me through. And"--his voice
dropped--"I guess he was right."

The colour came back to her face. She pressed his hand without speaking.

"I shouldn't be here now but for you, Anne," he said, his blue eyes
watching her. "I sometimes think it must have been a mortal strain upon
you. Have you felt it so very badly, I wonder?"

She met his look with eyes grown misty. "Luke--my dearest--you have done
far greater things for me. You have kept me from starvation. You have no
idea what you are to me."

The words came brokenly. She che