He could have bitten his tongue out now. 'You mustn't believe it, please.... Sandomir wasn't the name ... it was my mistake.... Sandberg--that was it.' 'They never said,' Alix repeated. She felt remote from him and his remorse, emptied of pity and drained of all emotions, only very sick, and her hands were as cold as fishes. A little way in front Evie and Basil were laughing together. A robin sang on a swaying bough. Alix thought how sad he was. She had a sore throat and a headache. The mist clung round, clammy and cold, like her hands.... 'I don't know what to say,' Ingram was muttering. 'There's nothing _to_ say....' Alix stopped walking. The sky went dark. 'Terry,' she said. Terry was at her side. 'All right.... Aren't you well?' She held on to his arm. 'Terry, I'm going home.' He looked at her face. 'All right. I'll come too.... If you're going to faint, you'd better sit down first.' 'I shan't faint,' said Alix. 'But I think ... I think I may be going to be sick.' 'Well,' said Terry, 'just wait till the others have gone on, or they'll fuss round.... I say, good-bye, all of you; Alix is rather done, and we're going to the nearest station for the next train. No thanks, don't bother to come; we shall be all right.' Alix heard far-away offers of help; heard Evie's 'Shall I come with you, Al?' and Basil's 'What bad luck,' and the others' sympathies and regrets, and Terry keeping them off. 7 Alix and Terry were alone together. Then Alix was, as she had foretold, sick, crouching on damp heather by the roadside. 'Have you done?' inquired Terry presently. 'Yes. I hope so, at least. Let's go on to the station.' 'I wonder, is it something beginning? Do you feel like flu? Or is it biliousness, or a chill? Or have you walked too far? I was afraid you were.' 'I'm all right. Only that man--Mr. Ingram--told me things, and suddenly I felt sick.... He told me things about Paul.... He didn't know who I was, and then suddenly he knew, and I saw him know, and I knew too. Do _you_ know, Terry?' 'No,' said Terry, levelly. 'I know what some men who were out there thought, but it wasn't true.' Terry was a good liar, but now no use at all. Alix twisted her cold hands together and whispered hoarsely, 'You've known all the time, then.... Oh, Paul, Paul--to have minded as much as all that before you died ... to have been hurt like that for weeks and weeks....' She was crying now, and could not stop. 'Don't,' said Terry gently. 'Don't think like that about it; it's not the way. Don't think of Paul, except that he got out of it quicker than most people, and is safe now from any more of it. One's got to keep on thinking of that, whenever any of them slip up.... I hoped you'd none of you ever know.... That bungling ass.... Alix, don't: it was such a short time he had of it....'