"Do you think Mr. Sault would like to know that you go weeping about the house for his sake?" asked Christina patiently. "Of course he would! I would like somebody to grieve over me and I'm sure he'd like to know that somebody was dropping a silent tear over him." On the whole, Mrs. Colebrook preferred to be alone that night. The late editions would have the result of the trial. Evie would be out, too. She was going to a theatre with Teddy Williams. That, Mrs. Colebrook thought, was heartless, but Evie had an excuse. Mr. Sault had done nothing for her: had even quarreled with her. So Christina went gladly to her new friend. She saw the doctor for a minute in the hall and in his professional mood, Dr. Merville was charming. "You open up vistas of a new career for me, Miss Colebrook," he laughed. "With you as a shining example, I am almost inclined to take up osteopathy in my old age! Really, you have mended wonderfully." In Beryl's little room she heard the news. "We expected it, of course," she said. "Did Sir John wire anything about Ambrose--how he bore it?" "Yes, here is the telegram." Christina read: "Sault sentenced to death. He showed splendid courage and calmness." "Naturally he would," said Christina quietly. "I am glad the strain is over, not that I think it was a strain for him. Beryl, I hope we are going to be worthy disciples of our friend? There are times when I am very afraid. It is a heavy burden for a badly equipped mind like mine. But I think I shall go through without making a weak fool of myself. I almost wish that _I_ was marrying Jan Steppe. The prospect would take my mind off--no it wouldn't. And it doesn't in your case." "I don't want to have my mind relieved of Ambrose," said Beryl. "We can do nothing, Christina. We never have been able to do anything. Ambrose could appeal, but of course, he won't do anything of the sort. I had a mad idea of going to see him. But I don't think I could endure that." Christina shook her head. She saw him every day. He never left her; he was sitting there now with his hands folded, silent, thoughtful. She avoided saying anything that would hurt him. In moments when Evie annoyed her, as she did lately, the thought that Ambrose would not approve, cut short her tart retort. She confessed this much and Beryl agreed. She felt the same way. Beryl had had another bed put in her own room and they talked far into the night. There was nothing that Ambrose had ever said which they did not recall. He had said surprisingly little. "Did he ever tell you in so many words that he loved you, Beryl?" Only for a second did Beryl hesitate. "Yes," she said.