opes, for
Guthrie Carey's sake, is a common-sense person, as well as a
dispassionate student of human nature.

CHAPTER XIX.

Deb was at Redford once more.

In her own room too, surrounded by familiar objects--the six-foot
dressing-table and the nine-foot wardrobe, and the Aspinalled book-case
that was a fixture, amongst other things. She had not taken them to her
suburban villa, nor sent for them afterwards. Meanwhile, Mr Thornycroft
had bought them with the place, and taken care of them, as of
everything that she had left behind. They had been in his possession
now for several years.

The strange thing in the room was Mr Thornycroft himself--Mr
Thornycroft on the little white bed that Deb used to sleep on, his hair
white, his once stalwart frame reduced to a pale wreck of skin and bone.

"You will forgive me for coming here," he apologised. "I have not been
using the things. But they had me moved for coolness--the south-east
aspect, and being able to get a current through--"

"I am thankful they did. It is the best place for you this weather. But
there's one thing I shall never forgive you--that you didn't let me
know before."

She was sitting at his bedside, holding his hand--she, too, much
changed, thinner, sadder, shabbier, or rather, less splendidly turned
out than had been her wont in earlier days; beautiful as ever,
notwithstanding--infinitely more so, in the sick man's eyes.

"Why should I bother you? I haven't been very bad--just the old asthma
off and on. It is only lately that I have felt it upsetting my heart.
And you know I am used to being alone."

He spoke with the asthma pant, and a throb of the lean throat that she
could not bear to see. His head was propped high, so that they squarely
faced each other. His eyes were full of tenderness and content--hers of
tears.

"You have been pretty lonely yourself, by all accounts," said he,
stroking her hand. "It's odd to think of you in that case, Debbie."

"I've felt it odd myself," she smiled, with a whisk of her
handkerchief. "But, like you, I am getting used to it."

"Where's Dalzell all this time?" "Don't know. Don't care. Please don't
talk of him."

"Nobody else--?"

"Oh, dear, no! Never will be. I am going to take up nursing or
something."

"YOU!" he mocked.

"Do you suppose I can't? Wait till I have got you over this attack, and
then tell me if I can't. I am going to stay with you, godpapa, until
you are better. I have spoken