"Every one has given him up. It is terrible. A few days ago he sent for Braden Thorpe and—well, it was announced in the papers that there will be an operation to-morrow or the next day. Of course, he cannot survive it. That is admitted by every one. Mr. Wintermill went over to see him last night. He was really shocked to find Mr. Marraville quite cheerful and—contented. I fancy you know what that means." "And Braden is going to operate?" said Anne slowly. "No one else will undertake it, of course," said the other, something like a triumphant note in her voice. "What a wonderful thing it would be for Braden if he were to succeed," cried Anne, battling against her own sickening conviction. "Think what it would mean if he were to save the life of a man so important as James Marraville,—one of the most talked-of men in the country. It would—" "But he will not save the man's life," said Mrs. Wintermill significantly. "I do not believe that Marraville himself expects that." She hesitated for an instant. "It is really dreadful that Braden should have achieved so much notoriety on account of—I _beg_ your pardon!" Anne had arisen and was standing over her visitor in an attitude at once menacing and theatric. The old lady blinked and caught her breath. "If you are trying to make me believe, Mrs. Wintermill, that Braden would consent to—But, why should I insult him by attempting to defend him when no defence is necessary? I know him well enough to say that he would not operate on James Marraville for all the money in the world unless he believed that there was a chance to pull him through." She spoke rapidly and rather too intensely for Mrs. Wintermill's peace of mind. "That is just what Percy says," stammered the older woman hastily. "He believes in Braden. He says it's all tommyrot about Marraville paying him to put him out of his misery. My dear, I don't believe there is a more loyal creature on earth than Percy Wintermill. He—" Percy was announced at that instant. He came quickly into the room and, failing utterly to see his mother, went up to Anne and inquired what the deuce had happened to prevent her coming to luncheon, and why she didn't have the grace to let him know, and what did she take him for, anyway. "Elaine and I stood around over there for an hour,—an hour, do you get that?—biting everything but food, and—" "I'm awfully sorry, Percy," said Anne calmly. "I wouldn't offend Elaine for the world. She's—" "Elaine? What about me? Elaine took it as a joke, confound her,—but I didn't. Now see here, Anne, old girl, you know I'm not in the habit of being—" "Here is your mother, Percy," interrupted Anne coldly. "Hello! You still waiting for me, mother? I say, what do you think Anne's been doing to your angel child? Forgetting that he's on earth, that's all. Now, where were you, Anne, and what's the racket? I'm not in the habit of being—"