Mr. Duffham turned over with his fingers a glass paper-weight that happened to lie on the table, as if he wanted to see the fishing-boats on the sea that its landscape represented, and then he glanced at Sir Geoffry. "Of course you wish to get well?"--with a slight emphasis on the "wish." "Most certainly I wish to get well. For my mother's sake--and of course also for my wife's, as well as for my own. I don't expect to, though, Duffham." "Well, that's saying a great deal," retorted Duffham, pretending to make a mockery of it. "I've not been strong for some time--as you may have seen, perhaps: but since the beginning of May, when the intensely hot weather came in, I have felt as--as----" "As what, Sir Geoffry?" "As though I should never live to see another May, hot or cold." "Unreasonable heat has that effect on some people, Sir Geoffry. Tries their nerves." "I am not aware that it tries mine. My nerves are as sound as need be. The insurance offices won't take my life at any price, Duffham," he resumed. "Have you tried them?" "Two of the best in London. When I began to grow somewhat doubtful about myself in the spring, I thought of the future of those near and dear to me, and would have insured my life for their benefit. The doctors refused to certify. Since then I have felt nearly sure in my own mind that what must be will be. And, day by day, I have watched the shadow drawing nearer." The doctor leaned forward and spoke a few earnest words of encouragement, before departing. Sir Geoffry was only too willing to receive them--in spite of the inward conviction that lay upon him, Lady Rachel Chavasse entered the library in the course of the afternoon. She wore a sweeping silk, the colour of lilac, and gold ornaments. Her face had not changed: with its classically-carved contour and its pale coldness. "Does Duffham think you are better, Geoffry?" "Not much, I fancy." "Suppose we were to try another change--Germany, or somewhere?" she calmly suggested. "I would rather be here than anywhere, Rachel." "I should like you to get well, you know, Geoffry." "I should like it too, my dear." "Mamma has written to ask us to go into Somersetshire for Christmas," continued Lady Rachel, putting her foot, encased in its black satin shoe and white silk stocking, on the fender. "Ay. My mother was talking about it just now. Well, we shall see between now and Christmas, Rachel. Perhaps they can come to us instead." Lady Rachel turned her very light eyes upon her husband: eyes in which there often sat a peevish expression. It was not discernible at the present moment: they were coldly calm. "Don't you think you shall be quite well by Christmas?" "I cannot speak with any certainty, Rachel."