haps, in time to come, you might
explain to your uncle that Clare Lawson was just a professional name
which I adopted when I tried to take up work. It is quite usual. Many
women do it."

"_Juliet_!" he repeated softly. From his manner he appeared to have
heard only her name. "_Juliet_! It's perfect. A name that suits you
above all others. Of course you are Juliet. I was a fool not to know
that before. Juliet, I am so glad you are not Clare!"

"I'm not Clare, and I'm not Alice. It's a--a joke in two moves, but it
is time it should come to an end. To-morrow I must go."

"You must not go. It's madness! Is it because of--of what happened
to-day? It need never happen again. I was dreadfully sorry. I would
not for the world--"

"Of course, of course. I _quite_ understand. You were driven to it.
It was as disagreeable to you as to me," Juliet said sourly. _She felt_
sour; more ruffled by the explanation than she had been by the offence
itself.

What would have happened next there is no saying, but at that moment the
door opened, and Mrs Maplestone appeared on the threshold. Uncle
Godfrey was in pain. He wished to go to bed. Would Tony come and give
him an arm?

Retribution sure and swift fell upon the Squire. All night long he
tossed in pain, and in the early morn the doctor was summoned, who
delivered himself of a gloomy verdict: Serious. One bad attack
following hard on the top of another. The patient had been warned, and
the patient had transgressed. The patient's heart was not in a
condition to stand these repeated strains. The patient must have a
nurse. Must be kept quiet. The patient must be safeguarded against
irritation and strain. Excitement at this juncture might have serious
effects.

Then the doctor drove away, and the patient, who was to be kept quiet,
proceeded to work himself into a condition of fuss and antagonism
against every separate member of the household, and in especial against
Antony, his heir. It was Antony's fault that he was laid low; the
contrariety of Antony which had ruined his health; and now he lay at
death's door (he was at death's door; he _chose_ to lie at death's door!
It was his own business, he supposed, at whose door he should lie?);
now, even at this last moment, Antony delayed, prevaricated,
shilly-shallied, talked calmly of waiting a couple of years! It was not
the girl's fault. The girl was willing enough. She was making a
pretence of unwill