The doctor turned to him at last. "What about that meal you spoke of? Shall we go down and get it?" Piers stared at him. "I am not leaving her," he said in a quick whisper. Wyndham's hand was on his shoulder again--a steady, compelling hand. "Oh yes, you are. I want to talk to you," he said. "She is sleeping naturally, and she won't wake for some time. Come!" There was nothing peremptory about him, yet he gained his end. Piers rose. He hung for a moment over the bed, gazing hungrily downwards upon the shadowy, motionless form, then in silence turned. Tudor had risen. He met them in the doorway, and between him and the London doctor a few words passed. Then the latter pushed his hand through Piers' arm, and drew him away. They descended the wide oak stairs together and entered the dining-room. Piers moved like a man dazed. His companion went straight to the table and poured out a drink, which he immediately held out to Piers, looking at him with eyes that were green and very shrewd. "I think we shall save her," he said. Piers drank in great gulps, and came to himself. "I say, I'm beastly rude!" he said, with sudden boyishness. "For goodness' sake, help yourself! Sit down, won't you?" Maxwell Wyndham seated himself with characteristic deliberation of movement. He had fiery red hair that shone brazenly in the lamplight. "I can't eat by myself, Sir Piers," he remarked, after a moment. "And it isn't particularly good for you to drink without eating either, in your present frame of mind." Piers sat down, his attitude one of intense weariness. "You really think she'll pull through?" he said. "I think so," Wyndham answered. "But it won't be a walk over. She will be ill for a long time." "I'll take her away somewhere," said Piers. "A quiet time at the sea will soon pick her up." Maxwell Wyndham said nothing. Piers glanced at him with quick impatience. "Don't you advise that?" The green eyes countered his like the turn of a swordblade. "Certainly quiet is essential," said Wyndham enigmatically. Piers made a chafing movement. "What do you mean?" "I mean," very calmly came the answer, "that if you really value your wife's welfare, you will let someone else take her away." It was a straight thrust, and it went home. Piers flinched sharply. But in a moment he had recovered himself. He was on guard. He looked at Wyndham with haughty enquiry. "Why do you say that?" "Because her peace of mind depends upon it." Wyndham's answer came with brutal directness. "You will find, when this phase of extreme weakness is past, that your presence is not desired. She may try to hide it from you. That depends upon the kind of woman she is. But the fact will remain--does remain--that for some reason best known to yourself, she shrinks from you. I am not speaking rashly without knowledge. When a woman is in agony she can't help showing her soul. I saw your wife's soul to-day."