"Mr. Pybus, can I trouble you to order some brandy? Stay, she is coming back to life again!" She was. She sighed. She opened her eyes, as if she were waking out of sleep. She turned to me. "George!" "My darling!" I caught her in my arms. I held her to my breast. What mattered it if there were others there? We were standing by an open grave! "I do so love you, George!" She was dreaming. She thought we were alone. "Margaret!" I kissed her. Something caused her to look round. There was old Pybus standing at her side. She drew herself away from me. She blushed a rosy red; then her glance travelled round the room. She pressed her hands against her bosom. A startled look came into her eyes. "Then--it wasn't all a dream." Hughes slipped his arm through hers. "Miss Hammond, I must insist upon your taking exercise. Take a sharp turn or two round the room with me. Lucas, I wish you'd sit down and play us a dance. Or, better still, let me sit down and play, and you and Miss Hammond take a few turns together. Mr. Pybus, you must dance with Mrs. Chalmers. A flyaway gallop, or a rattling polka. They're better than valses." There was a remarkable expression upon old Pybus's enamelled countenance. So far as that goes, I expect there was on mine--but, as to that, no matter. "Might I ask, once more, for an explanation of these very singular proceedings?" "I warn you, Mr. Pybus, that if you do not dance with Mrs. Chalmers, you must be responsible for the consequences, both as they regard yourself and the lady." Pybus's eyes wandered from Hughes to Mrs. Chalmers. The lady was making noise enough for ten. She did not strike the imagination as being a promising partner for a dance. So Pybus seemed to think. Hughes struck up, "You should see me dance the polka," playing it at the rate of about sixty miles an hour. Margaret looked at me. "Are you and I to dance? Why dance?" I shook my head. "Hughes," I said, "I can't." "You must, man, you must! Are you mad?" "I can't." I couldn't. A numbness seemed to be settling on my brain. My legs refused to support me. I sank into a chair. Margaret hesitated for just one second. I could see her trembling. Then she sat on the ground close to my feet. She leaned her arm upon my knee. Her face was turned towards mine. "Nor can I. If we must die, George, let us die together; but not dancing." "What on earth," inquired Pybus, "is all this talk of dying, Mr. Hughes? I insist upon an answer, sir." In a sort of fury Hughes leaped from the music-stool. "And I insist, Mr. Pybus, upon your dancing with Mrs. Chalmers. I warn you that if you don't you will be morally guilty, not only of murder, but of suicide." He turned to me. "As for you--are you a man? Do you think that it is your life only which is hanging in the balance? I tell you that the only hope for Miss Hammond is to keep her circulating. Do that, and I will answer for it with my own life, that all will yet be well."