"No, she is not," returned the other through clenched teeth, "she will be all right directly, if you'll give her time. For heaven's sake go away, man. Don't let her see you like that. Don't you know your head is cut." Geoffry put up his hand mechanically, and found plentiful evidence of this truth, but he was still bewildered as to what had actually happened, and he was aching with desire to take her from Christopher's hold. "It was just an accident," he protested. "She didn't mean to hit me, of course. Let her lie down." "She did mean to hit you, just at the moment," returned the other, very quietly, "haven't you been told. Oh, do go away, there's a good fellow. I'll explain presently." He was sick with dread lest Patricia should give way to one of her terrible paroxysms of sorrow before them both. She was trembling all over and he did not know how much self-control she had gained. Then suddenly he understood what was the real trouble with poor Geoffry. "Don't mind my holding her, Geoffry," he went on swiftly, "I've seen her like this before and understand, and I can always stop her, but she mustn't see you like that first." Geoffry stood biting his lip and then turned abruptly on his heel and left them--and for all his relief at his departure, Christopher felt a faint glow of contempt at his obedience. "Is he gone?" Patricia lifted her white face and black-rimmed eyes to his. "Yes, dear." "Did I hurt him?" "Not seriously. Sorry I was not quicker, Patricia." "I did not even know myself," she answered, wearily. "Christopher, why was I born? Why didn't someone let me die?" He gave her a little shake. "Don't talk like a baby. But, Patricia, how is it Geoffry doesn't know?" She looked round with languid interest. "Why did he go?" "I sent him away." "He went?" "What else could he do?" She made no further remark, but sat clasping and unclasping her nervous hands, as powerless against the desperate languor assailing her as she had been against the gust of passion. Across the wide, smiling land westward a closed shadow, sharp of outline and rapid of flight, drove across the stubble field, sank in an intervening valley, and skimmed again over the close green turf to their feet as it touched the edge of the chalk pit. She shivered a little. "Take me home, Christopher." He helped her up and with steady hands assisted her to smooth her hair and put on her hat, and then they turned and walked back along the path they had come. Christopher was greatly troubled. It seemed to him incredible that Geoffry had been left in ignorance of this cruel inheritance. He tried to gauge the effect of it on his apparently unsuspecting mind and was uneasy and dissatisfied over the result. "Someone must explain to Geoffry," he said presently; "will you like him to come over to-night and tell him yourself, Patricia?"