Roy did not know how to bear himself under it. He had nothing to do, nothing with which to pass the time. He stood at the window, looking out upon the darkness, trying desperately to be cool and stoical, as one five minutes crawled by after another. Denham never moved, never spoke a word. Roy could just make out his dark outline, as motionless as a carved image, a few yards distant. If only Denham would have talked, if something would have happened, if somebody would have come in, it would have been easier to keep going. But nobody came, nothing happened, and Denham did not stir. Roy drummed with his fingers on the window-sill. He could hear shrill voices out in the street, not far off, and the sound of some tuneless instrument. One of the two candles was gone with Mrs. Baron, leaving the room dim. He tried to listen, tried not to think. And just when he counted himself victorious, there was a queer little catch of his breath which sounded suspicious. Roy drummed again angrily, hoping that Denham had not heard. He might be asleep, he was so still. But, after a slight break, he said-- "Come here." Roy unwillingly obeyed. He would have liked to refuse, but he looked upon Ivor as in some sort his commanding officer, so of course he had no choice. "They're making no end of a row out there," he remarked in a tone of profound indifference, as he lounged nearer. "Can't think what it's all for. Just listen." "Yes; I wish they would stop." "Don't know what's it's all about. Something or other--going on. I shouldn't wonder--if they're quarrelling." That odd little catch again. "Feel very bad this evening, Roy?" The question took Roy by surprise, and a lump in his throat prevented an immediate reply. Denham understood. "Never mind," he said. "It's the same with all of us, you know. And there's one comfort for you--that Molly wants you at least as much as you want her. Some people would give a good deal for that certainty." Roy tried to explain matters away. "I didn't say----" "My dear boy, there's no need for you to say anything; I know well enough. Don't you see?" Denham's chair shook as Roy leant against it, but no further sound came. He fought his battle courageously, and Denham waited. "We shall all feel better to-morrow," the latter presently remarked. "It's a strange place, and things look uncomfortable to-night--can't well do otherwise. Suppose you and I have a game of chess. Better than to sit brooding over what can't be cured. My little travelling set is somewhere about, I believe." "O yes." Roy's voice told of instant relief. "You gave it to me to take care of. Don't you mind a game, really? I should like that. Will you give me your queen?" "No; not to-day. I'm not at my best. We'll try on even terms. Get out the pieces."