“I shall have to go abroad out of this dreadful climate in any case. Doctor's orders. And I might just as well travel about with an object in view as idle in Monte Carlo or Egypt.” “But you might die!” she cried; and her tone touched my heart. “I've got to,” I said, as gently as I could; and the moment the words passed my lips I regretted them. She turned a terrified look on me and seized me by the arms. “Is it as bad as that? Why haven't you told me?” I lifted my arms to her shoulders and shook my head and smiled into her eyes. They seemed true, honest eyes, with a world of pain behind them. If I had not regarded myself as the gentleman in the Greek Tragedy walking straight to my certain doom, and therefore holding myself aloof from such vain things, I should have yielded to the temptation and kissed her there and then. And then goodness knows what would have happened. As it was it was bad enough. For, as we stood holding on to each other's shoulders in a ridiculous and compromising attitude, the door opened and Dale Kynnersley burst, unannounced, into the room. He paused on the threshold and gaped at us, open-mouthed. CHAPTER IX We sprang apart, for all the world like a guilty pair surprised. Luckily the room was in its normal dim state of illumination, so that to one suddenly entering, the expression on our faces was not clearly visible; on the other hand, the subdued light gave a romantic setting to the abominable situation. Lola saved it, however. She rushed to Dale. “Do you know what Mr. de Gex was just telling me? His illness--it is worse than any one thought. It's incurable. He can't live long; he must die soon. It's dreadful--dreadful! Did you know it?” Dale looked from her to me, and after a slight pause, came forward. “Is this true, Simon?” A plague on the woman for catching me in the trap! Before Dale came in I was on the point of putting an airy construction on my indiscreet speech. I had no desire to discuss my longevity with any one. I want to keep my miserable secret to myself. It was exasperating to have to entrust it even to Dale. And yet, if I repudiated her implied explanation of our apparent embrace it would have put her hopelessly in the wrong. I had to support her. “It's what the doctors say,” I replied, “but whether it's true or not is another matter.” Again he looked queerly from me to Lola and from Lola back to me. His first impression of our attitude had been a shock from which he found it difficult to recover. I smiled, and, although perfectly innocent, felt a villain. “Madame Brandt is good enough to be soft-hearted and to take a tragic view of a most commonplace contingency.” “But it isn't commonplace. By God, it's horrible!” cried the boy, the arrested love for me suddenly gushing into his heart. “I had no idea of it. In Heaven's name, Simon, why didn't you tell me? My dear old Simon.”