re
could be no question of marriage, or even an engagement, for fear of
wounding the old man's feelings. I quite appreciated her situation and
was content to wait.

"No! She has an invalid father, and----"

"Rubbish!" said Sarakoff, with remarkable force. "Rubbish! Marry her,
man, and then think of her father. Why, that sort of thing----" He drew
a deep breath and checked himself.

I shook my head.

"That is impossible. Here, in England, we cannot do such things.... The
girl's duty is plain. I am quite prepared to wait."

"To wait for what?"

I looked at him in unthinking surprise.

"Until Mr. Annot dies, of course."

Sarakoff remained motionless. Then he took his pipe out of his mouth,
strolled to the window, and began to whistle to himself in subdued
tones. A moment later he left the room. I picked up a time-table and
looked out a train, a little puzzled by his behaviour.

I reached Cambridge early in the afternoon and took a taxi to the
Annots' house. Miss Annot met me at the door.

"It is so good of you to come," she said with a faint smile. "My father
behaved very foolishly yesterday. He insisted on inviting the Perrys to
lunch, and he talked a great deal and insisted on drinking wine, with
the result that in the night he had a return of his gastritis. He is
very weak to-day and his mind seems to be wandering a little."

"You should not have allowed him to do that," I remonstrated. "He is in
too fragile a state to run any risks."

"Oh, but I couldn't help it. The Perrys are such old friends of
father's, and they were only staying one day in Cambridge. Father would
have fretted if they had not come."

I had taken off my coat in the hall, and we were now standing in the
drawing-room.

"You are tired, Alice," I said.

"I've been up most of the night," she replied, with an effort towards
brightness. "But I do feel tired, I admit."

I turned away from her and went to the window. For the first time I felt
the awkwardness of our position. I had a strong and natural impulse to
comfort her, but what could I do? After a moment's reflection, I made a
sudden resolution.

"Alice," I said, "you and I had better become engaged. Don't you think
it would be easier for you?"

"Oh, don't," she cried. "Father would never endure the idea that I
belonged to another man. He would worry about my leaving him
continually. No, please wait. Perhaps it will not be----"

She checked herself. I remained silent, staring