you know her). She won't
be at home to lunch either, and she need never find me out in my
iniquity, except that--even though my foot is not so _very_ bad--I
shall be sure to limp. She will enquire what has happened, and, of
course, though my conscience would not reproach me much for silence, if
that were possible, I couldn't tell a fib."

I would have been ready to swear that she was not one of the young women
who could rattle off what they might call "harmless evasions" with a
candidly smiling face.

"Suppose, then," I suggested, "that you allow me to take you at once to
a doctor, who will examine your ankle, and perhaps be able to anoint it
with some healing lotion, which may prevent the limping you so dread.
There used to be a man in this neighbourhood whom I knew by reputation
when I was in England last. I remember street and number, and it's not
very likely that he's moved away."

"A grand idea," she exclaimed; but though she tried to speak brightly,
even merrily, it was plain to see that she was suffering a good deal,
whether more physically or mentally I could not tell.

I put out my head and gave directions to the cabman, and when I drew it
in again to glance anxiously at the face which already I so passionately
loved, I saw that it was even whiter than before. The eyes were drooping
and the dark curling lashes almost swept the colourless cheeks. As
though she felt my gaze upon her, she looked up instantly, and made an
effort to smile; but the mischievous light which had danced in her eyes
when she first sank restfully back upon the shabby cushions of the cab
had been suddenly and utterly quenched.

"Miss Cunningham!" I exclaimed. "You have made nothing of your pain, but
I know that you are ill--that you are suffering."

"I am very foolish," she answered, in a low, unsteady voice. "It isn't
my ankle--though, of course, that hurts a little--but I think It must be
the shock, which I didn't realise at first. I felt quite bright until a
moment ago, but suddenly I am all weak and trembling. The truth is, Mr.
Stanton, I wasn't fit to be out this morning, especially alone, and I
didn't come simply from sheer bravado, as you might think, and for the
sake of doing what I'd been told not to do. I--I felt as though I
_must_ be out in the air, and in motion. I didn't sleep last night,
and I didn't eat any breakfast this morning, which may partly account
for this silliness of mine, perhaps. I thought I should feel bet