looking anxiously into her
lover's bluish-tinted face. "I'm not hungry."

Mrs. Tribb took a long look at the visitor and pursed up her lips, as
she shook her head. "Hungry you mayn't be, my lady, but food you must
have, and that of the most nourishing and delicate. You look almost as
much a corpse as Master Noel there."

"Yes, Agnes, you do seem to be ill," said Lambert with a startled
glance at her deadly white face, and at the dark circles under her eyes.
"What is the matter, dear?"

"Nothing! Nothing! Don't worry."

Mrs. Tribb still continued to shake her head, and, to vary the movement,
nodded like a Chinese mandarin. "You ain't looked after proper, my lady,
for all your fine London servants, who ain't to be trusted, nohow,
having neither hands to do nor hearts to feel for them as wants comforts
and attentions. I remember you, my lady, a blooming young rose of a gal,
and now sheets ain't nothing to your complexion. But rose you shall be
again, my lady, if wine and food can do what they're meant to do. Tea
you shan't have, nohow, but a glass or two of burgundy, and a plate of
patty-foo-grass sandwiches, and later a bowl of strong beef tea with
port wine to strengthen the same," and Mrs. Tribb, with a determined
look on her face, went away to prepare these delicacies.

"My dear! my dear!" murmured Agnes again when the door closed. "You
should have sent for me."

"Nonsense," answered Lambert, smoothing her hair. "I'm not a child to
cry out at the least scratch. It's only an attack of my old malarial
fever, and I shall be all right in a few days."

"Not a few of these days," said Agnes, looking out of the window at the
gaunt, dripping trees and gray sky and melancholy monoliths. "You ought
to come to London and see the doctor."

"Had I come, I should have had to pay you a visit, and I thought that
you did not wish me to, until things were adjusted."

Agnes drew back, and, kneeling before the fire, spread out her hands to
the blaze. "Will they ever be adjusted?" she asked herself despairingly,
but did not say so aloud, as she was unwilling to worry the sick man.
"Well, I only came down to The Manor for a few days," she said aloud,
and in a most cheerful manner. "Jane wants to get the house in order
for Garvington, who returns from Paris in a week."

"Agnes! Agnes!" Lambert shook his head. "You are not telling me the
truth. I know you too well, my dear."

"I really am staying with Jane at The Manor," she per