He took an involuntary step toward the door like a caged thing that sees a loophole, halted as she barred his way, turned his marred young visage and glared at her. There was something terrible in his intent gaze--a pale flare flickering in his eyes like the uncanny light in the orbs of a cornered beast. "You'll wait, won't you?" she asked, secretly frightened now. After a long interval, "Yes," his lips motioned. "Thank you. Because it is the supreme moment of our lives. It involves life or death.... Be patient with me. Will you?" "But you must be brief," he muttered restlessly. "You know what I need. I am sick, I tell you!" So she went away--not to arrange her beauty more convincingly, but to fling coat and hat to her maid and drop down on the chair by her desk and take up the telephone: "Dr. Langford's Hospital?" "Yes." "Miss Erith wishes to speak to Dr. Langford. ... Is that you, Doctor?... Oh, yes, I'm perfectly well.... Tell me, how soon can you cure a man of--of dipsomania?... Of course.... It was a stupid question. But I'm so worried and unhappy... Yes.... Yes, it's a man I know.... It wasn't his fault, poor fellow. If I can only get him to you and persuade him to tell you the history of his case... I don't know whether he'll go. I'm doing my best. He's here in my library.... Oh, no, he isn't intoxicated now, but he was yesterday. And oh, Doctor! He is so shaky and he seems so ill--I mean in mind and spirit more than in body.... Yes, he says he needs something.... What?... Give him some whisky if he wants it?... Do you mean a highball?... How many?... Oh... Yes... Yes, I understand ... I'll do my very best.... Thank you. ... At three o'clock?... Thank you so much, Doctor Langford. Good-bye!" She hung up the receiver, took a look at herself in the dressing-glass, and saw reflected there a yellow-haired hazel-eyed girl who looked a trifle scared. But she forced a smile, made a hasty toilette and rang for the butler, gave her orders, and then walked leisurely into the library. McKay lifted his tragic face from his hands where he stood before the fire, his elbows resting on the mantel. "Come," she said in her pretty, resolute way, "you and I are perfectly human. Let's face this thing together and find out what really is in it." She took one armchair, he the other, and she noticed that all his frame was quivering now--his hands always in restless, groping movement, as though with palsy. A moment later the butler came with a decanter, ice, mineral water and a tall glass. There was also a box of cigars on the silver tray. "You'll fix your own highball," she said carelessly, nodding dismissal to the butler. But she looked only once at McKay, then turned away--pretence of picking up her knitting--so terrible it was to her to see in his eyes the very glimmer of hell itself as he poured out what he "needed."