Brooke did so concisely, and the doctor nodded. "Pretty much as I figured," he said. "You want to stop it right away. Go down the Sound on a steamboat, or across to Victoria for two or three weeks, and do nothing." "I'm afraid that's out of the question." The doctor made a little gesture. "Then, if you go on taking it out of yourself, there'll be trouble, especially if you worry. Go slow, and eat and sleep all you can for a month, anyway." Brooke thanked him, and went back to Devine's office thoughtfully. He felt that the advice was good, though there were difficulties in the way of his acting upon it. He had already realized that the strain of the last few months, the insufficient food, and feverish work, were telling upon him, but he had made up his mind to hold out until the work at the Dayspring was in full swing and the value of the ore lead had been made clear beyond all doubt. Then there would be time to rest and consider the position. Devine was in when he reached the office, and looked hard at him, but he said very little while Brooke told his story. Nor did he appear by any means astonished or concerned. "Well," he said, reflectively, "it's quite likely that we'll have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Saxton to-morrow. He'll hang off until then, and when he comes I'll be ready to talk to him. In the meanwhile, you're coming home with me." Brooke hoped that he did not show the embarrassment he certainly felt, for, much as he longed to see her, it was, after their last meeting, difficult to believe that Barbara would appreciate his company, and he scarcely felt in a mood for another taste of her displeasure. "I had decided on going out on the Atlantic express this evening," he said. "There is a good deal to do at the Dayspring, and I could scarcely expect Mrs. Devine to be troubled with me. Besides, you see, I came right away----" He glanced significantly at his clothes, but Devine, who rose, laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're coming along," he said. "I may want you to-morrow." Brooke, who felt too languid to make another protest, went with him, and when they reached the house on the hillside, Devine led him into a room which looked down on the inlet. "Sit down," he said, pointing to a big lounge chair. "I'll send somebody to look after you, and, unless you look a good deal better than you do now, you'll stay right here to-morrow. In the meanwhile, you'll excuse me. There are one or two folks I have to see in the city."