He was lying with closed eyes, growling at Dominique, who moved about
noiselessly, putting the room ready for the night. When he had finished,
and with a compassionate bow had left the room, Mr. Treffry opened his
eyes, and said:

"This is beastly stuff of the doctor's, Chris, it puts my monkey up;
I can't help swearing after I've taken it; it's as beastly as a vulgar
woman's laugh, and I don't know anything beastlier than that!"

"I have a letter from Greta, Uncle Nic; shall I read it?"

He nodded, and Christian read the letter, leaving out the mention of
Harz, and for some undefined reason the part about Sarelli.

"Ay!" said Mr. Treffry with a feeble laugh, "Greta and her money! Send
her some more, Chris. Wish I were a youngster again; that's a beast of
a proverb about a dog and his day. I'd like to go fishing again in the
West Country! A fine time we had when we were youngsters. You don't
get such times these days. 'Twasn't often the fishing-smacks went out
without us. We'd watch their lights from our bedroom window; when they
were swung aboard we were out and down to the quay before you could
say 'knife.' They always waited for us; but your Uncle Dan was the
favourite, he was the chap for luck. When I get on my legs, we might
go down there, you and I? For a bit, just to see? What d'you say, old
girl?"

Their eyes met.

"I'd like to look at the smack lights going to sea on a dark night;
pity you're such a duffer in a boat--we might go out with them. Do you a
power of good! You're not looking the thing, my dear."

His voice died wistfully, and his glance, sweeping her face, rested on
her hands, which held and twisted Greta's letter. After a minute or two
of silence he boomed out again with sudden energy:

"Your aunt'll want to come and sit with me, after dinner; don't let
her, Chris, I can't stand it. Tell her I'm asleep--the doctor'll be here
directly; ask him to make up some humbug for you--it's his business."

He was seized by a violent fit of pain which seemed to stab his breath
away, and when it was over signed that he would be left alone. Christian
went back to her letter in the other room, and had written these words,
when the gong summoned her to dinner:

"I'm like a leaf in the wind, I put out my hand to one thing, and it's
seized and twisted and flung aside. I want you--I want you; if I could
see you I think I should know what to do--"

XXII

The rain drove with increasing fury. The ni