A great physical change had come over him in the few months of his absence. He was pale and gaunt-looking, as though he had but lately risen from a serious illness, and his eyes, which fell at once on Nora’s face, were hollow and heavily underlined. Nora noticed these details with the sort of mechanical minuteness of a mind too stunned to grasp the full magnitude of the situation. One side of her intellect kept on repeating: "Why has he come? Why has he come?" whilst the other was engrossed in a trivial catalogue of the changes in his appearance. "He stoops more—he is thinner," she thought, but she could not rouse herself to action. Arnold, indeed, gave her little opportunity. After the first moment’s hesitation he advanced and held out his hand. "I ought to have let you know of my coming, Nora," he said, "but I could not wait. I have just arrived in Berlin, and of course my first visit had to be to you. I hope I have not chosen an inconvenient time?" He was trying to speak conventionally, and was successful, insomuch that Nora understood that she had at present nothing to fear from him. Not that she felt any fear now that the first shock was over. It was with a certain dignity and resolution that she looked from one man to the other. "This is my husband, Robert," she said, "and this, Wolff, is my old playfellow, Captain Arnold." Wolff held out his hand frankly. "I am glad to meet you," he said. "I am glad for my wife’s sake when she has the chance of seeing her old friends. I hope, therefore, that your stay in Berlin is to be a long one?" Arnold bowed. "I am on my way home to England," he said. "How long I remain depends on circumstances." "May the circumstances be favourable, then!" Wolff returned. His tone was warm—almost anxiously friendly, and Nora looked at him in surprise and gratitude. His smiling face betrayed no sign of the devil which he had grappled with and overcome in one short moment of struggle. He nodded cheerfully at her. "I am afraid you must play hostess alone for a little, dear," he said. "Captain Arnold, as a soldier you will understand that duty can’t be neglected, and you will excuse me. I have no doubt you will have a great deal to talk about, and at supper-time I shall hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again. Whilst you are in Berlin you must consider this your _pied-à-terre_." "You are very kind," Arnold stammered. Like Nora, he too was impressed—uncomfortably impressed—by the impetuous hospitality with which Wolff greeted him. Like Nora, also, he had no means of knowing that it was the natural revolt of a generous nature from the temptings of jealousy and suspicion. Wolff had lighted a small lamp, which he carried with him to the door, together with a bundle of documents. For a moment he hesitated, looking back at Nora, and the light thrown up into his face revealed an expression of more than usual tenderness. "Don’t talk yourself tired, Frauchen," he said as he went out.