Dr. Tillman wrenched his hand away, shook his head scornfully, and started across the room toward where Quisante was. May laid her hand on old Foster's arm. "What did he say? Does he think my husband ill?" "I don't know. It's all nonsense." Another voice broke in. "A triumph, Lady May, a triumph indeed!" She turned to find the Dean and Marchmont close behind her, and the Dean holding out his hand as he spoke. "Yes, yes," she said hurriedly and uncomfortably. "It was fine, wasn't it?" "It was magnificent," said Marchmont. "Thanks, thanks." Her tone was still hurried, absent, ungracious. The two looked at her in surprise. Where was the radiance of triumph that had lit up her face as she signalled to them from the platform? They had expected to find her full of the speech and had been prepared to give her joy by the warmth and sincerity of their praise. "What's the matter?" whispered Marchmont. "Do you see that short man, the one with grey hair, trying to get near Alexander It's the doctor--Dr. Tillman. He can't get near Alexander." "What does he want?" "I don't know. He thinks he ought to go home. He thinks--Ah, now he's getting to him! Look! He's speaking to him now!" They saw the doctor come up to Quisante and Quisante smile as he waited for the visitor to introduce himself. The doctor began to speak quickly and energetically. "Oh, thank you very much, but I'm all right," came suddenly in loud clear tones from Quisante. The doctor spoke again. Quisante shook his head, laughing merrily. Marchmont looked at May; her eyes were on her husband and they were full of fear. "I'd forgotten," he heard her murmur. She turned to him with an imploring air. "He won't listen," she said. A burst of laughter came from Quisante's group; he had made some joke and they all applauded him. Tillman stood for a moment longer before him, then gave a queer jerk of his head, and turned sharp round on his heel. He came back towards where she stood. She took a step forward and thus crossed his path, Marchmont and the Dean standing on either side of her. "You remember me, Dr. Tillman?" she asked. "I'm Mr. Quisante's wife, you know." He stood still, looking at her angrily from under his bushy eyebrows. "Take him home then," he said sharply. "It was madness to let him come here at all. You're flying in the face of the advice you've had. Oh, I know about it. Let me tell you, you're very lucky to have got through so far." "We--we're through all right now," she said. "Are you? I hope so. The man's in a high state of excitement now, and high states of excitement aren't good for him." He paused and added impatiently, "Have you no influence over him? Can none of you do anything with him?" "He won't like it if I go to him," May whispered. "I'll go," said the Dean, stepping forward. "Yes," said Tillman, "go and tell him Lady May Quisante wants him." The Dean started off on his errand. The doctor's manner grew a little gentler.