imes heard, he
fancied, the clear note. It was this beastly influenza that made him
feel so cold and lifeless. But all would soon come right--that is, if
only that face, luminous against the floating darkness within, would not
appear the instant he closed his eyes.

But legions of dreams are Influenza's allies. He fell into a chill doze,
heard voices innumerable, and one above the rest, shouting them down,
until there fell a lull. And another, as it were, from afar said quite
clearly and distinctly, 'But surely, my dear, you have heard the story
of the poor old charwoman who talked Greek in her delirium? A little
school French need not alarm us.' And Lawford opened his eyes again on
Mr Bethany standing at his bed.

'Tt, tt! There, I've been and waked him. And yet they say men make such
excellent nurses in time of war. But you see, Lawford, what did I tell
you? Wasn't I now an infallible prophet? Your wife has been giving me a
most glowing account. Quite your old self, she tells me, except for just
this--this touch of facial paralysis. And I think, do you know' (the
kind old creature stooped over the bed, but still, Lawford noticed
bitterly, still without his spectacles)--'yes, I really think there is
a decided improvement. Not quite so--drawn. We must make haste slowly.
Wedderburn, you know, believes profoundly in Simon; he pulled his
wife through a dangerous confinement. And here's pills and tonics and
liniments--a whole chemist's shop. Oh, we are getting on swimmingly.'

Flamelight was flickering in the candled dusk. Lawford turned his head
and saw Sheila's coiled, beautiful hair in the firelight.

'You haven't told Alice?' he asked.

'My dear good man,' said Mr Bethany, 'of course we haven't. You shall
tell her yourself on Monday. What an incredible tradition it will be!
But you mustn't worry; you mustn't even think. And no more of these
jaunts, eh? That Ferguson business--that was too bad. What are we going
to do with the fellow now we have created him? He will come home to
roost--mark my words. And as likely as not down the Vicarage chimney.
I wouldn't have believed it of you, my dear fellow.' He beamed, but
looked, none the less, very lean and fagged and depressed.

'How did the wedding go off?' Lawford managed to think of inquiring.

'Oh, A1,' said Mr Bethany. 'I've just been describing it to Alice--the
bride, her bridegroom, mother, aunts, cake, presents, finery, blushes,
tears, and everything that was he