In the next room his wife was fighting a fight of her own. So soon as he left her she dropped on to a chair, as if her legs refused her support. A curious change had come over her face, and her lips were twitching; she looked furtively about her, as if she was afraid of she knew not what. When she heard the bedroom door banged, and she knew that her husband had dismissed the maid, she called, "Louisa," softly; so softly that one wondered if she wished to be heard. But Louisa did hear, appearing with a startled visage in the doorway. "Who--who did Mr. Morgan ask for?" The question was put so softly that it was nearly whispered; the speaker's tongue and lips seemed parched. "Please, ma'am, he asked for you." "For me? What--what did he say?" "Please, ma'am, he said 'Is Mrs. Nash in?'" "Mrs. Nash? You're sure he said Mrs. Nash?" "Yes, ma'am, quite sure." "And when you told him I wasn't in, did he ask for Mr. Nash?" "No, ma'am; he said he'd wait." "How--how long did he wait?" "Maybe twenty minutes, maybe half-an-hour; please, ma'am, I couldn't say exactly." "And did he seem angry?" "No, ma'am; quite pleasant. He gave me a shilling as he was going." "A shilling! Oh! Now tell me, exactly, what was the message he left." "If you please, ma'am, he told me to tell you exactly what he said, so I took particular notice." She repeated word for word what Mr. Morgan had said; Mrs. Nash listening with singular intentness, as if her attention was fixed not so much on the actual words as on what was behind them. When the girl had finished she sat still, as if pondering. Louisa roused her. "If you please, ma'am, can I lay for supper?" Mrs. Nash rose with a little jump. "Supper! of course; how silly I am! I was quite forgetting about supper. Certainly, Louisa, you can lay for supper; I--I think I'm quite ready for it." When she went into the bedroom her husband was still standing with his elbows on the mantelpiece and his face to the wall. As she entered he looked round with a start; the pair stood looking at each other as if each was taken aback by something which was on the other's face. She spoke first, in a voice which seemed to tremble. "Herbert, what--what's the matter?" "The matter?" He laughed, a forced laugh. "Nothing's the matter; why do you ask what's the matter?" "You're--you're looking so strange." "That's your imagination, my dear. What is the matter is that I've got a touch of headache--one of my mother's headaches; you remember what I've told you about the headaches she used to have. I fancy the sun was stronger than I thought." "I didn't notice it; you said nothing about it." "No; I didn't notice it at the time. I expect that what I want is my supper; it'll be better after I've had something to eat." "Have you found your letter-case?"