"In the first place it is deception. Yes, it is," he repeated in answer to a mutter from the doctor. "It is deception. You allow him to believe what is not true. In plain words you act a lie. Can any possible good come from such a course? In the second, can you do it? Picture to yourself what it will be. You will be the affianced wife of a man whom you do not know, and if you are to act the part in such a way as to make it in the least realistic, you must be on more than friendly terms with him. You must show a certain warmth of manner, to say the least of it, in response to his demonstrations of affection. Philippa, you can't do it! You can't! Imagine yourself in such a position." Again he paused, and again she did not speak. "I wish you would tell me what is in your mind. You know the whole sad story. Can it be possible that there is some quixotic notion in your head that it is for you to heal a wound for which one of your family was responsible? Oh, surely not! And yet, you women are so fond of anything like self-sacrifice that it is impossible to fathom the motives that drive you into folly: generous, well-meant folly, but folly all the same. You have no one here to advise you, and I beg you to be guided by me. You are not really called upon to do this thing. It is undesirable--it is not right." He stopped speaking at last. It was useless to continue to argue with a person who could not apparently be moved by anything he said. The doctor stepped forward. "Miss Harford," he said abruptly, "you have heard Major Heathcote's side of the question; you already know the other. As I told you before, we are in your hands. What are you going to do?" Strive as he would he could not keep the note of anxiety out of his voice. Philippa's next words were a surprise to both men, but the doctor was the first to understand her intention, and his face brightened visibly. She turned to the Major. "How long is it since you have seen--Francis?" she asked him. "I----" he replied, rather taken aback, "I think it must be about a fortnight." "Will you go and see him now--and then when you have spoken to him, will you come back to me here?" "Certainly, if you wish it," he replied wonderingly. The doctor led the way and the Major followed him, and they walked up-stairs without speaking. Philippa moved to the window, and stood there looking out, her hands lightly clasped in front of her--motionless, her eyes gazing across the sunlit park. And so she waited, until after the lapse of about ten minutes the two men returned. As they entered the room she stepped quickly forward, and before either of them could speak she said--