She stood looking at him placidly, the burning candle steady in her hand, her; face very white and thin. He had risen, standing there motionless in his belted invalid's robe with the stencilled S. C. on the shoulder. And now he would have gone to her, hands outstretched, haggard face joyously illumined; but she stepped back with a swift gesture that halted him; and in her calm, unfriendly gaze he hesitated, bewildered, doubting his senses. "Ailsa, dear, is anything wrong?" "I think," she said quietly, "that we had better not let Colonel Arran see how wrong matters have gone between us. He is very badly hurt. I have talked a little with him. I came here because he asked for you and for no other reason." "Did you know I was here?" "I saw you arrive last night--from the infirmary window. . . . I hope your wound is healed," she added in a strained voice. "Ailsa! What has happened?" She shuddered slightly, looked at, him without a shadow of expression. "Let us understand one another now. I haven't the slightest atom of--regard--left for you. I have no desire to see you, to hear of you again while I am alive. That is final." "Will you tell me why?" She had turned to go; now she hesitated, silent, irresolute. "Will you tell me, Ailsa?" She said, wearily: "If you insist, I can make it plainer, some time. But this is not the time. . . And you had better not ask me at all, Philip." "I do ask you." "I warn you to accept your dismissal without seeking an explanation. It would spare--us both." "I will spare neither of us. What has changed you?" "I shall choose my own convenience to answer you," she replied haughtily. "Choose it, then, and tell me when to expect your explanation." "When I send for you; not before." "Are you going to let me go away with that for my answer?" "Perhaps." He hooked his thumbs in his girdle and looked down, considering; then, quietly raising his head: "I don't know what you have found out--what has been told you. I have done plenty of things in my life unworthy of you, but I thought you knew that." "I know it now." "You knew it before. I never attempted to conceal anything." A sudden blue glimmer made her eyes brilliant. "That is a falsehood!" she said deliberately. The colour faded from his cheeks, then he said with ashy composure: "I lie much less than the average man, Ailsa. It is nothing to boast of, but it happens to be true. I don't lie." "You keep silent and act a lie!" He reflected for a moment; then: "Hadn't you better tell me?" "No." Then his colour returned, surging, making the scar on his face hideous; he turned, walked to the window, and stood looking into the darkness while the departing glimmer of her candle faded on the wall behind him.