"You look at me strangely, Margaret," said Awdrey. "I cannot account for your looks, nor indeed for your actions during the whole of to-day. Now I wish to tell you that I have resolved to carry out Rumsey's advice--he wants me to leave home at once. I spent a night with him--was it last night? I really forget--but anyhow, during that time he had an opportunity of watching my symptoms. You know, don't you, how nervous I am, how full of myself? You know how this inertia steals over me, and envelops me in a sort of cloud. The state of the case is something like this, Maggie; I feel as if a dead hand were pressed against my heart; sometimes I have even a difficulty in breathing, at least in taking a deep breath. It seems to me as if the stupor of death were creeping up my body, gradually day by day, enfeebling all my powers more and more. Rumsey, who quite understands these symptoms, says that they are grave, but not incurable. He suggests that I should leave London and at once. I propose to take the eight o'clock Continental train. Will you come with me?" "I?" she cried. "I cannot; our child's little body lies upstairs." "Why will you annoy me by referring to that delusion of yours? You must know how painful it is to listen to you. Will you come, Maggie?" "I cannot. Under any other circumstances I would gladly, but to-night, no, it is impossible." "Very well then, I'll go alone. I have just been up in my room packing some things. I cannot possibly say how long I shall be absent--perhaps a few weeks, perhaps a day or two--I must be guided in this matter by my sensations." "If you come back in a day or two, Robert, I'll try and go abroad with you, if you really think it would do you good," said Margaret. "I'll see about that," he replied. "I cannot quite tell you what my plans are to-night. Meanwhile I find I shall want more money than I have in the house. Have you any by you?" "I have twenty-five pounds." "Give it to me; it will be quite sufficient. I have about fifteen pounds here." He touched his breast-pocket. "If I don't return soon I'll write to you. Now good-by, Maggie. Try and conquer that queer delusion, my dear wife. Remember, the more you think of it, the more it will feed upon itself, until you will find it too strong for you. Good-by, darling." She threw her arms round his neck. "I cannot describe what my feelings are at this awful moment," she said. "Is it right for me to let you go alone?" "Perfectly right, dearest. What possible harm can come to me?" he said with tenderness. He pushed back the rich black hair from her brow as he spoke. "You love me, Robert?" she cried suddenly--"at least your love for me remains?" He knit his brows.