nto her
eyes--brimmed--overflowed--in silence. Her lips smiled. Rachel Dunstable
bent over her in bewilderment.

"To have a son," murmured Doris under her breath, "and then to see him
ruined like this! No love for him!--no children--no grandchildren for
oneself, when one is old--"

Her voice died away.

"'To have a son'?" repeated Lady Dunstable, wondering--"but you have
none!"

Doris said nothing. Only she put up her hand feebly, and wiped away the
tears--still smiling. After which she shut her eyes.

Lady Dunstable gasped. Then the long, sallow face flushed deeply. She
walked over to a sofa on the other side of the room, arranged the
pillows on it, and came back to Doris.

"Will you, please, let me put you on that sofa? You oughtn't to have had
this long journey. Of course you will stay here--and Miss Wigram too. It
seems--I shall owe you a great deal--and I could not have expected
you--to think about me--at all. I can do rude things. But I can also--be
sorry for my sins!"

Doris heard an awkward and rather tremulous laugh. Upon which she
opened her eyes, no less embarrassed than her hostess, and did as she
was told. Lady Dunstable made her as comfortable as a hand so little
used to the feminine arts could manage.

"Now I will send you in some luncheon, and go and talk to Lord
Dunstable. Please rest till I come back."

* * * * *

Doris lay still. She wanted very much to see Arthur, and she wondered,
till her head ached, whether he would think her a great fool for her
pains. Surely he would come and find her soon. Oh, the time people spent
on lunching in these big houses!

The vibration of the train seemed to be still running through her limbs.
She was indeed wearied out, and in a few minutes, what with the sudden
quiet and the softness of the cushions which had been spread for her,
she fell unexpectedly asleep.

When she woke, she saw her husband sitting beside her--patiently--with
a tray on his knee.

"Oh, Arthur!--what time is it? Have I been asleep long?"

"Nearly an hour. I looked in before, but Lady Dunstable wouldn't let me
wake you. She--and he--and I--have been talking. Upon my word, Doris,
you've been and gone and done it! But don't say anything! You've got to
eat this chicken first."

He fed her with it, looking at her the while with affectionate and
admiring eyes. Somehow, Doris became dimly aware that she was going to
be a heroine.

"Have they told you,