heavily over his forehead
with a suggestion of pain. Then she spoke impulsively:

"Roger--do you mind? I'd like to take your temperature."

"Mine? What for?"

"Don't be cross, I really think I'd better."

"Oh, all right, go ahead."

A moment later, when she was in the act of counting his pulse and while
the thermometer was sticking out of his mouth, Lady Clifford entered,
followed by her sister-in-law, the latter looking tired and much older.
Both women looked on with interest and concern.

"Miss Rowe--you don't think----?"

"It is up a little," Esther admitted, holding the thermometer to the
light. "Just a hundred. I thought so last night. It isn't much, of
course."

"So did I. You see, Roger! You wouldn't believe me."

"Well, what if it is? It's nothing worth mentioning."

Miss Clifford glanced helplessly at the others, and Therese gave a
pathetic shrug. She looked fragile and wan, all life gone out of her.

"My dear," she said gently to Roger, going up to him and putting her
hand on his shoulder, "I had the same symptoms that you have--the same
that poor Charles had. This is a dreadful epidemic; no one is safe.
But look at me--I escaped it, I am perfectly well. Why? Because I
took the anti-toxin."

"Of course, Roger," his aunt urged eagerly. "You must let the doctor
see you at once; you mustn't waste a minute!"

"You think I ought to have typhoid anti-toxin, do you?"

Therese shrugged her shoulders again very slightly before replying, "I
think so, naturally. But I should leave it to the doctor. He'll
advise you."

Roger turned to Esther.

"What do you think about it, Miss Rowe?" he asked. "Would you have it
if you were I?"

"The anti-toxin? Oh--that is something you must decide."

Why on earth did she make such an inane reply? She saw Lady Clifford
smile a little and raise her eyebrows, as if amused by what she
considered a stupid conversation. The old lady merely looked troubled.

"Well," remarked Roger, rising, "you women may think what you like, but
there's one thing I never have been able to stand the thought of, and
that is having a needle stuck into me."

"My dear, that's simply childish," his aunt chid him mildly. "It's
only a tiny prick."

"Yes and it's just that tiny prick that is worse for me than going over
the top ever was. You'll think me no end of a fool, but I mean it."

He left the room to avoid argument. Miss Clifford turned to Esther for
sympathy.