"Not the thing yet," he said, "though a decided improvement over yesterday. But you must show a better face than this." She asked after Rachel. He pretended to consult his watch. She stepped in front of him, "Is there any chance for her, Doctor?" He met her eyes then gravely. "There is about one chance in a hundred of her recovery; but go and get something to eat. You will find the servants about. I am going to the city now; I shall be back again on the noon train." Annie went to the kitchen; she found the cook who gave her steaming coffee. She did not drink the coffee, but carried it through the house and out into the garden. She understood that Emil, fearing to betray his grief, had moved away at the doctor's approach. She went to the tree by which he had been standing and placed the coffee on the grass. A few moments later he returned. He did not notice the cup until he had upset it; then he stared at the stupidly rolling china, and immediately struck off toward the beach. Obscurely afraid of bringing shame on her who was dying, he shunned everyone. He remained on the beach, alternately watching the house from a distance, and pacing up and down. At noon Annie ventured in the direction he had taken. He was no longer in sight. She went only a short way, then placed a basket of food where it could not escape his eye. Her preoccupation with her husband kept her from dwelling on more tragic matters. The next day, when she was taking his dinner to the shore, Emil spied her. She set down the basket hastily and started to run. But he beckoned to her and then called. She went to him, lifting up a suppliant face. His eyes as she drew near, held the look of an animal that consciously awaits slaughter: "How is she?" As she did not answer at once, not knowing how to say what she must say, he caught her shoulder in a grip that spoke the madness of torture. "_For God's sake, tell me!_" he almost shouted. "There is one chance in a hundred, Alexander," she said; "but there is one chance." His head went up and his hand dropped. Presently, with a convulsive breath: "I've been a coward. I've dodged the doctor--couldn't ask him." His hands clenched. "Does she suffer?" he asked, and swung a look on her. "No, she does not suffer," Annie answered. "She lies there very still as though she were asleep; and her husband stands outside the door and will not let anyone move in that part of the house. And in the front room, that strange young man who came the other day is lying dead. It seems he was sort of unbalanced, and it was he who set the fire; Ding Dong knows he did, for he tried to keep Ding Dong from giving the alarm. And then he drowned himself." But her husband was interested in no one but Rachel. Haggard and unkempt, he stared at the water.