tened; and that was enough just now--that she still, in spite
of doubt, believed in him, and thought and cared for him. He was too
tired to have refused the least kindness. He made no answer, but leant
his head on the cool, slender fingers in gratitude and peace. And, just
as he was, he almost instantly fell asleep. He woke in the darkness to
find himself alone. He groped his way heavily to the door and turned
the handle. But now it was really locked. Energy failed him. 'I
suppose--Sheila...' he muttered.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sheila, calm, alert, reserved, was sitting at the open window when he
awoke again. His breakfast tray stood on a little table beside the bed.
He raised himself on his elbow and looked at his wife. The morning
light shone full on her features as she turned quickly at sound of his
stirring.

'You have slept late,' she said, in a low, mellow voice.

'Have I, Sheila? I suppose I was tired out. It is very kind of you to
have got everything ready like this.'

'I am afraid, Arthur, I was thinking rather of the maids. I like to
inconvenience them as little as possible; in their usual routine, I
mean. How are you feeling, do you think, this morning?'

'I--I haven't seen the glass, Sheila.'

She paused to place a little pencil tick at the foot of the page of her
butcher's book. 'And did you--did you try?'

'Did I try? Try what?'

'I understood,' she said, turning slowly in her chair, 'you gave me to
understand that you went out with the specific intention of trying to
regain.... But there, forgive me, Arthur; I think I must be getting a
little bit hardened to the position, so far at least as any hope is in
my mind of rather amateurish experiments being of much help. I may seem
unsympathetic in saying frankly what I feel. But amateurish or no, you
are curiously erratic. Why, if you really were the Dr Ferguson whose
part you play so admirably you could scarcely spend a more active life.'

'All you mean, Sheila, I suppose, is that I have failed.'

'"Failed" did not enter my mind. I thought, looking at you just now
in your clothes on the bed, one might for the moment be deceived into
thinking there was a slight--quite the slightest improvement. There
was not quite that'--she hovered for the right word--'that tenseness.
Whether or not, whether you desired any such change or didn't, I should
have supposed in any case it would have been better to act as far
as possible like any ordinary person. You w