“Poor Uncle Fayre!” she said. “I know how you feel. One bothers and bothers over a thing until one can’t see it straight at all and then one loses faith in one’s own judgment. It’s quite true, an outsider _is_ a help sometimes.” “It’s a help I shall have to do without in this instance,” he admitted reluctantly. “Let’s forget it and talk of something pleasant.” They chatted desultorily for a while, laughing and joking and taking a genuine pleasure in each other’s company, as people with a keen sense of humour will, even though tragedy be close upon their heels, but Cynthia never ceased to be aware that there was an object in their meeting and knew that he was only waiting for an opportunity to broach the subject that was really on his mind. He did so at last, so casually that, if she had not been on the alert, she might have missed the significance of his question. He had brought the conversation round to Sybil Kean and her illness. “If only she doesn’t have a relapse now,” he said thoughtfully. “If would be a bit of bad luck for us if Edward were to throw up the case.” Cynthia turned to him with something like panic in her eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she exclaimed. “Of course if she were really ill he wouldn’t be able to go to Carlisle. He’d never leave her.” “I’m afraid he wouldn’t. He’s utterly wrapped up in her. Sybil is a fascinating person, but I must admit that Edward’s devotion was a revelation to me. I did not know he had it in him to care so much for any one.” “I don’t believe anybody else would ever have understood him as Sybil does,” said Cynthia slowly. “He’s not an easy person to know.” Fayre gazed reflectively at the tips of his well-polished boots. “You’ve seen a lot of Sybil in the last few years, haven’t you?” he asked suddenly. Cynthia knew that the question for which she had been waiting had come at last, but she could not see its point. “Yes,” she answered wonderingly. “I’ve stayed with her in London, you know, as well as seeing her often at Staveley. Why do you ask?” “What do you really think of those two, Cynthia?” Then, seeing the genuine bewilderment in her face: “I’m curious about Sybil. Edward is, and always has been, absolutely devoted and there can be no question that, from his point of view, their marriage has been a very happy one. But what about Sybil?” Cynthia’s face cleared. “You mean, does she love him?” she said frankly. “It’s funny you should ask that. I was puzzling over it last night. Eve Staveley told me a long time ago that Sybil had never got over her first husband’s death and that she believed that it was only Edward’s insistence that made her marry him. Well, I was wondering last night whether she was right.” “You think that Sybil’s fonder of Edward than any of us realize?” In spite of his efforts he could not subdue the urgency in his voice.