doors at all for necessary exercise. He would have fits of work, when
nothing would induce him to stir from the easel. Another time, he would
spend whole mornings lying on the floor, with his arms clasped above his
head, or sitting with a book in his hands, a book which he never seemed
to read. He hardly ever spoke; he was always thinking. And worse than
all, he had lost his appetite and his sense of humour.

Mrs. Rogers had her own theory on the subject, which she imparted to
Katherine.

"Miss, it's them baths as has done it. Anythin' in reason and I'll not
sy no, but cold water to that igstent, m'm, it's against nature. It's my
belief Mr. 'Aviland would 'ave slept and 'ad 'is dinner in 'is bath, if
I 'adn't put my foot down. 'E's chilled 'is blood, depend upon it, m'm."
And indeed that seemed very likely.

Katherine said nothing about Hardy at the time; but the next night, when
she and Ted were sitting over the fire, she began.

"Ted, that was Vincent we saw on the Embankment last night."

"Yes, I saw him.

"Do you know, I believe he's killing himself with drinking."

"I know he is."

"Do you think we could do anything to help him before it's too late?"

He shook his head.

"Oh, Ted, we might! He never used to be like this. He's got no one to
speak to; we've left him by himself all this time in those horrid rooms.
The wall-paper alone is enough to send anybody to the bad. We might have
thought of him."

"I've done nothing else but think of him for the last two months. We
can't do anything. He's bound to go on like that; I don't see how he can
help it. As for drinking, nothing can stop _that_; I've seen fellows
like him before; and Vincent never did anything by halves."

"It's terrible. But we ought to try--it's the least we can do."

"The least _I_ can do is to keep out of his way. He hates the sight of
me."

"Why?"

"Don't you know? Didn't it ever strike you that Audrey was engaged to
Vincent all the time?"

"No. I thought he liked her, but--what makes you think that?"

"I can't tell you. But any sort of affectionate advances would come
rather badly from me. How's Vincent to know that I never knew?"

"You may be sure he knows. He knows Audrey."

Ted sighed, but he said nothing; there was nothing to be said.

"Would you very much mind asking him to supper to-morrow night?"

"No. He won't come. But you'd better write to him yourself, or else
he'll think you don't want him."

She wrote a note