The bride knew that even a minute's hesitation would make her too nervous to speak, so she said at once: "It was kind of you to send for the doctor, but indeed there was no need. I shall be well in a very few days. I feel rested already." "That's right," he said briefly. "Proper treatment will bring you round sooner, I expect." "I like Dr. Dymock," she said timidly. "He's not a bad sort." A silence ensued. How difficult it was to find things to say. Virginia made another effort. "Grover is so kind, she waits on me hand and foot!" "It's her work to wait on you. What she's paid for. I don't know why you should call her kind." "Don't you know," she asked earnestly, "the difference between the work you can pay for and the work you can't? Oh, but I am sure you must." He grunted. Evidently he was not interested, but bored. She offered him more tea, and refrained from further efforts at talk, remembering his sneer at her "prattle." They were too utterly out of sympathy for her to have any idea of how best to approach him. He drank his second cup of tea in silence, his gaze travelling over the room, over the dressing-table with its dainty appointments, over the white silk kimono, embroidered in faintly coloured flowers, which his bride wore. The loose sleeve revealed the thinness of her arm and wrist, which her dresses had formerly more or less concealed. On her white flesh he remarked a row of round purple marks. Had she rubbed her arm on something dirty? What could have caused those stains? They looked like finger-marks. The memory of yesterday--of their tussle, and his snatching of the letter from her desperate grip--came suddenly to him. Could it be true that he, Osbert Gaunt, with the upbringing and traditions of a gentleman, had left the marks of his hands upon a fragile girl? Self-disgust turned him for a moment almost sick. Yet he would say what he had come to say. He cleared his throat. "The doctor suggested to me that he should send our neighbour, Mrs. Ferris, to call upon you in a day or two. I don't suppose you will like her much, but she is about the only person available. She is one of nature's mistakes--daughter of a colonel, and ought to have worked in a factory. However, they tell me she is a good sort. She has a motor, and would take you for a spin. I want you to understand that, if you go out with her, it is only on conditions--that it would be of no use for you to attempt to escape." Virgie was so surprised that she dropped the sugar-tongs. "To escape!" "From me." "I don't understand----" "I think you do. If Mrs. Ferris motors you to any place where there is a railway station you might be tempted to take the train and go off. I ought to tell you that if you do, I shall bring you back." "You suppose that I should--that I should let Mrs. Ferris into the secret of my--of your--of our----" "What more likely?"