"Doubting things go wrong, Often hurts more than to be sure they do." --SHAKESPEARE. Honor found Evelyn in a state of chastened happiness, buttering toast for Theo's breakfast, which stood ready on a tray at her side. "Would you like to take this in yourself?" she said, as she completed her task. "I think he would be pleased. He was asking where you were." The suggestion was so graciously proffered that Honor deposited a light kiss on the coiled floss silk of Evelyn's hair as she bent above the table. Then she took up the tray, and went on into the study. She entered, and set it down without speaking; and Desmond, who was lying back with closed eyes, roused himself at the sound. "Thank you, little woman," he said. Then, with a start, "Ah, Honor,--it's you. Very kind of you to trouble. Good-morning." The contrast in his tone and manner was apparent, even in so few words; and Honor was puzzled. "I hope you got some sleep last night," she said, "after that cruel thirty-six hours." "More or less, thanks. But I had a good deal to say to Paul. You and he seem to have become very close friends while I have been away." "We have; permanently, I am glad to say. I should have come in to you when I got up, but I was sure he would have done everything you could want before leaving." "He did; and he'll be back the minute he's through with his work. He is an incomparable nurse; and with him at hand, I shall not need to--trespass on so much of your time, after all." Honor bit her lip and tingled in every nerve, less at the actual words than at the manner of their utterance--a mingling of embarrassment and schooled politeness, which set her at arm's length, checked spontaneity, and brought her down from the heights with the speed of a dropped stone. "It is not a question of trespassing on my time," she said, and in spite of herself a hint of constraint invaded her voice. "But I have no wish to deprive Paul of his privilege and right. You can settle it with Dr Mackay between you. Now, it's time you ate your breakfast. Can you manage by yourself? Shall I send Evelyn to help you?" "No, thanks; I can manage all right." He knew quite well he could do nothing of the sort; but his one need was to be alone. "Very well. I shall be busy this morning with mail letters. Evelyn will sit with you till Paul comes; and Frank is sure to be round during the day. I pointed out to you yesterday that there were plenty of--others able and willing to see after you." Before he could remonstrate she was gone. He drew in his breath sharply, between set teeth, and struck the arm of his chair with jarring force. "I have hurt her--clumsy brute that I am. And I must do worse before the day's out. But the sooner it's over the better."