too, would refuse to take advantage of his position to suggest
it."

"I think," said Sir Jacques quietly, "that the suggestion in any case
would have to come from Miss Rose."

And then, for the first time, Rose lost control of herself. She became
agitated, tearful--in her eagerness she put her hand on Sir John's
breast, and looking piteously up into his face, "Of course I want to
marry him at once!" she said brokenly. "Every time I have had to leave
him in the last few days I have felt miserable. You see, I _feel_
married to him already, and if you feel married, it's so very strange
not to _be_ married."

She began to laugh helplessly, and the more, shocked at what she was
doing, she tried to stop, the more she laughed.

Sir Jacques came quickly forward. "Come, come!" he said sharply, and
taking her by the arm he shook her violently. "This won't do at all----"
he gave a warning look at the other man. "Of course Miss Rose will do
exactly what she wishes to do! She's quite right in saying that she's as
good as married to him already, Sir John. And it's our business--yours,
hers, and mine--to think of Jervis, and of Jervis only just now. But she
won't be able to do that if she allows herself to be upset!"

"I'm so sorry--please forgive me!" Rose, to her own measureless relief,
had stopped laughing, but she felt oddly faint and queer. Sir Jacques
poured out a very small wineglassful of brandy, and made her drink it.
How odd to have a bottle of brandy here, in Mr. Robey's study! Mr. Robey
was a teetotaller.

"Would you like me to go up to Jervis now?" asked Sir John slowly.

Sir Jacques looked into the speaker's face. It was generally a clear,
healthy tan colour; now it had gone quite grey. "No," he said. "Not now.
If you will forgive me for making a suggestion, I should advise that you
and Miss Rose take Lady Blake out somewhere for an hour's walk. There's
nothing like open air and a high road for calming the nerves."

"I would rather not see my wife just now," muttered Sir John frowning.

But Sir Jacques answered sternly, "I'm afraid I must ask you to do so;
and once you've got her out of doors for an hour, I'll give her a
sleeping draught. She'll be all right to-morrow morning. I don't want
any tears round my patient."

It was Rose Otway who led Sir John Blake by the hand down the passage.
The dreadful sounds coming from Mrs. Robey's sitting-room had died down
a little, but they still pierced one listener's hea