“I don’t know,” he said, “and I can’t understand it. I was under the impression that she was worrying about the whole thing more than was good for her. It never occurred to me that she was in the least hopeful. I only hope she’s right. You know she’s been very ill again?” “Yes. Edward wrote to Bill. He was a fool to whisk her off like that before she was really fit. It was Dr. Gregg’s fault, really, for saying she could go. It’s funny, but he felt just as you did about the case. He said she must be got away from the atmosphere of the whole thing because she was wearing herself to a thread over it and would never have a chance of pulling up unless she got right away. And she’s the only person who’s given me any real hope!” “You’re very fond of Sybil, aren’t you?” asked Fayre thoughtfully. Cynthia stared at him. “Of course. She’s been a perfect brick to me always and she’s a dear, anyway. You know, whenever I’ve got hopelessly fed up with things at home she’s had me in London for weeks together, and she was an angel about John from the beginning. I’d do a good deal for Sybil, and I’m not naturally an unselfish person,” she finished frankly. Fayre did not allude to the matter again and, when Cynthia announced her intention of going to the Keans’ on the chance of being allowed to see Sybil, he walked with her to the door, but he did not offer to go in. Instead, he mounted a bus and went out to Richmond. Arrived there, he made for the Park and walked until he was tired out. It was late when he entered the station and took the train back to London and he was worn out with hard exercise and lack of food, but he had at last come to a part solution of his difficulties. He had some supper at the club and then literally fell into bed. And this time he slept. Next morning he rang up Cynthia, whom he found just starting for her dentist’s. He picked her up there after her appointment and carried her off to Kensington Gardens. He waited until they had found chairs under the trees and then went straight to the point. “You’re an unusual person, Cynthia,” he said appreciatively. “I’ve kidnapped you in the middle of a busy morning and you’ve not asked a single question.” “I’ve been worrying, though,” she answered. “Do you realize that you’ve been looking as if you’d lost a shilling and found sixpence, as old Mrs. Doggett would say, ever since I’ve been in town? I nearly asked you before what was the matter, but I thought I’d wait till you came out with it yourself. There is something wrong, isn’t there?” “Nothing that affects you or Leslie,” he hastened to assure her. “But you are right, I have been worried about something. The trouble is not my own, or I’d put the whole thing before you, and I don’t mind admitting that I should be glad of an outside opinion on it. But that’s out of the question. I’m sorry to be so mysterious.” Cynthia nodded. Her face showed complete understanding.