"I have an idea what you mean," he said. "There's no denying it, I didn't like her body. And now, I suppose, it's too late." He looked up bleakly: in a way, willing to be condemned, since he knew vaguely that something was wrong. Anything better than the blind torture. "Oh, I don't know," said Luke. "Why don't you, even now, love her a little with your real heart? Poor disembodied thing! Why don't you take her to your warm heart, even now, and comfort her inside there. Why don't you be kind to her poor ghost, bodily?" The Colonel did not answer. He was gazing fixedly at Luke. Then he turned, and dropped his head, alone in a deep silence. Then, deliberately, but not lifting his head, he pulled open his dressing-gown at the breast, unbuttoned the top of his pyjama jacket, and sat perfectly still, his breast showing white and very pure, so much younger and purer than his averted face. He breathed with difficulty, his white breast rising irregularly. But in the deep isolation where he was, slowly a gentleness of compassion came over him, moulding his elderly features with strange freshness, and softening his blue eye with a look it had never had before. Something of the tremulous gentleness of a young bridegroom had come upon him, in spite of his baldness, his silvery little moustache, the weary marks of his face. The passionate, compassionate soul stirred in him and was pure, his youth flowered over his face and eyes. We sat very still, moved also in the spirit of compassion. There seemed a presence in the air, almost a smell of blossom, as if time had opened and gave off the perfume of spring. The Colonel gazed in silence into space, his smooth white chest, with the few dark hairs, open and rising and sinking with life. Meanwhile his dark-faced young wife watched as if from afar. The youngness that was on him was not for her. I knew that Lady Lathkill would come. I could feel her far off in her room, stirring and sending forth her rays. Swiftly I steeled myself to be in readiness. When the door opened, I rose and walked across the room. She entered with characteristic noiselessness, peering in round the door, with her crest of white hair, before she ventured bodily in. The Colonel looked at her swiftly, and swiftly covered his breast, holding his hand at his bosom, clutching the silk of his robe. "I was afraid," she murmured, "that Colonel Hale might be in trouble." "No," said I. "We are all sitting very peacefully. There is no trouble." Lord Lathkill also rose. "No trouble at all, I assure you. Mother!" he said. Lady Lathkill glanced at us both, then turned heavily to the Colonel. "She is unhappy to-night?" she asked. The Colonel winced. "No," he said hurriedly. "No, I don't think so." He looked up at her with shy, wincing eyes. "Tell me what I can do," she said in a very low tone, bending towards him.