It wasn’t necessary to make an effort to rouse him; he looked up at her as she came near and answered her “good morning” absently. Later he took a cup of strong coffee she brought, and drank it in compliance with her request. Afterward she heard him murmuring faintly and mechanically, as from force of habit, that he had had all the breakfast he wanted and really couldn’t eat any more, so would she please not get it for him. She paid no attention to this, though, and cooked him an egg with two little ribbons of bacon which she had brought over from her own limited base of supplies. When she set the tray on a kitchen chair by his side he looked up at her gratefully but shook his head a little. But when she said, “Please eat it, Mr. Haworth,” he did so. Afterward, when she had gone back to the kitchen and was washing the dishes he came out and asked if she could take a note to Mrs. Findlay for him and bring back an answer. He explained how to get there, and she started at once, without waiting to finish the dishes. There was a strange and disquieting look in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in them before. He had scribbled in pencil, “I must see you—I must—I must.” And the answer came back, “Darling—oh, my darling, please don’t be worried—it will be all right. Come to-morrow—three is the best time.” * * * * * When he was with her once more and she with him, there wasn’t much that could be said. It was mostly the two silent ones clinging to each other, feeling even then that the dread specter was standing over them, making ready to tear them eternally apart; yet each managed to find a few words of encouragement, Edith stopping his eyes with kisses when they turned that terrified look on her, and telling him there wasn’t any danger at all—that she felt so perfectly well; he muttering about a patent he might sell, and anyway there were other things he had in mind, so that she’d have every care and be sent to a place where cure was certain. And then there was the little one—Mildred they were going to name her—sound asleep on the nearby couch! It was inconceivable that tragedy could come to such an innocent! He sat for a long time looking down at the child, with Edith’s hand, now so white and thin, pressed against his lips. While he was there the maddening inability to do what would save her seemed not to burn into him so mercilessly. It was when he left her and was back in the vast and gloomy house with its shadowy candlelight and bareness of furniture that these things returned upon him and assaulted him with their full force. And something that made it still more terrible was lying on the table in the living room, awaiting his return—the large envelope from Doctor Markham’s office containing the specialist’s report. An agonizing thing to read, yet he did not hesitate.