"Oh, I suppose he told Bernadette about it. I thought I heard somebody moving about the house. I'm a light sleeper, you know, especially when I'm ill. About six o'clock, I think it was. I--I suppose Bernadette's disappointed at his not staying longer?" The assumed indifference of his question was contradicted by the eagerness of his furtive glance. Arthur felt it on him; he flushed as he sat down by the bedside, seeking so hard for a form of words, for an opening--something enlightening without being brutal. Godfrey's eyes, sharpened by his ill-will and suspicion, marked the flush and the hesitation; he guessed there was something to tell. "Well?" he added, peevish at getting no immediate answer. "She--she's gone away too this morning, Godfrey--early--before we were up." A lean hand shot out from the bed and grasped his wrist. "Arthur?" "Yes, old chap, I'm sorry to say--it's a bad business." "You do mean----? Arthur, you do mean----?" "Yes, she's gone with him." He could not look at Godfrey; his speech was no more than a mutter. He felt the grasp on his wrist tighten, till it hurt him. "The damned villain! I knew it! The infernal villain, Arthur!" Godfrey cried querulously. Clearly an assent was required. Arthur's was inadequate. "Awfully bad business! Try to--to be calm, old fellow, while I tell you about it." "Yes, yes, tell me!" There was really nothing material left to tell, but Godfrey was greedy for details; such as there were to tell or conjecture he extracted by rapid questioning, even to the telegram which had come for Judith. Not till the end did he relax his hold on Arthur's wrist and lean back again on his pillows. He lay silent like that for a long time, with Arthur silent beside him. His rage against Oliver seemed spent almost in the moment of its outburst; to his companion's relief he said nothing about Bernadette's conduct. He lay pathetically quiet, looking tired now, rather than angry or distressed. At last he gave a long sigh. "Well, we know where we are now!" he said. That piece of knowledge had come to more than one inmate of the house in the last twelve hours. "We must face the situation, Arthur. It's come to a crisis! I think I'm equal to getting up and--and facing the situation." "Well, you know, there's no particular use in your----" "My feelings are--well, you can imagine them." ("More or less!" threw in the gods, grimly chuckling.) "But I mustn't think of myself only. There's Margaret and--and all of it. Yes, I shall get up. I shall get up and sit in my chair, Arthur." He was silent again for a minute. "It makes a great difference. I--I shall have to consider my course--what's best in the interests of all of us. A terrible blow! It must be a blow even to you, Arthur? You and she were such good friends, weren't you? And she does this--she lets herself be seduced into doing this!" "Yes, of course, it's--it's a blow; but it's you and Margaret we've got to think about."