for his
number. . . . The night lift-man was bribed to post the letter, because
Eric dared not leave the telephone. He sat by it trembling as though
with fever, while eleven o'clock struck . . . and midnight . . . and one
. . . and three . . . and five. . . .

In the morning he was called at his usual time--to sink back on to the
bed almost before he had risen from it. While he waited for his
secretary, he telephoned to ask a colleague to shoulder double work for
the day and began to think wearily what other engagements he must break.
In an interlude of their over-night discussion Barbara had asked him to
lunch with her. . . .

With a strangely uncontrolled hand he wrote--"_I'm afraid I can't
remember what I said in my letter last night. I was feeling too much
upset. Didn't you ask me to lunch with you to-day? I'm afraid I'm
feeling so ill that I've had to stay in bed._ . . ."

When his secretary arrived, he sent her to Berkeley Square with the
note. While she was gone, his parlour-maid came in with a swaying mass
of White Enchantress carnations and a pencilled note. "_May God make you
happier than I've been able to do!_"

Eric tried to divert his thoughts from the note by giving elaborate
instructions about the flowers and his meals for the day. Before he had
done, his secretary returned, and he was still dictating when a sound in
the hall froze his voice and set his heart thumping.

"I hear Mr. Lane's not well. Do you think he could see me for a moment?"

"I'll enquire, my lady."

As Barbara came into the room, Eric saw that her face was grey with
suffering and that she seemed hardly able to keep her heavy lids open.

"Eric, what's the matter?" she asked, coming to his bedside.

In trying to speak softly her voice, already hoarse, disappeared
altogether and she rubbed her throat wonderingly.

"What's the matter with us both?" he asked weakly. "Babs . . ." His
voice broke. "You look like death!"

Before she turned her face, he could see that she was biting her lip.

"Hush, darling child! I'm only tired; I didn't sleep very well. I kept
on remembering that I'd lost some one I loved better than any one in the
world," she cried tremulously.

He raised himself on his pillows, stretching out hands that twitched.

"You _haven't_, Babs! If you want me----"

"Not at that price, darling. If my love for you were everything--there's
something else. I don't know what it is. . . . But I've not come to
upset you ag