Alexandra went quickly to Mrs. Lambert’s room. She was greatly concerned by Chalfont’s bad news, but far less unprepared for it than he had been. On the previous night Mrs. Lambert had almost collapsed in her dressing room, though she had made light of it and had forbidden Alexandra to say anything about it to Chalfont. Now she was worse, just recovering from the dead faint in which she had been found. She looked exceedingly ill. "Don’t be frightened," she said in a weak voice. "I know perfectly well what is the matter with me. I’m afraid it means an untimely end to the tour, though. You won’t leave me?" "Of course not," Alexandra promised. "You mustn’t worry about the tour, or anything. You want a rest. You’ll be quite strong again soon." Mrs. Lambert smiled faintly. "I told you I looked forward to resting. I meant it in its eternal sense. Six months ago I knew what was in store for me, but I meant to stand out this tour, if I could. I’m afraid they’ll try and persuade me to have an operation.... Just an outside chance of living.... Oh, my dear, I would so like to die quietly without being cut about and pried into." The tears came into Alexandra’s eyes. Illness she was prepared for, but not the thought of death. "Please, please, don’t talk like that," she said unsteadily. "Heaps of people who are very ill get better. Let me undress you. Then I’ll sit by you. But I don’t think you ought to talk." Mrs. Lambert was very passive. When Alexandra had undressed her she lay for a little in silence. Suddenly she said: "Remember I’m a Catholic.... See that I have a priest at the last ... if it comes to that. And—I must say this, don’t stop me—if—it’s necessary—afterwards—I would like you to write to my husband and tell him I sent my love." "Yes, yes, I promise," murmured Alexandra huskily. Mrs. Lambert turned on her pillow. "Baba will be all right, I think," she whispered, and fell asleep. She was awake again and quite cheery when the doctor, a noted specialist, arrived during the late afternoon. He was a long time with her and also a long time with Chalfont afterwards. The result of that conference was that the latter came to Alexandra and told her that an immediate operation had been decided on. "To-morrow?" she asked fearfully. The weakening effect of suspense made her shrink from the imminence of the ordeal, although it was not she who was to endure it. Deep distress was in Chalfont’s face. "No, to-night," he said brokenly. "She wouldn’t consent at first.... When Sir James told me that delay was dangerous I had to—to advise her to undergo it." He could hardly get the words out. "There isn’t time to move her. The hotel people have been very decent about it. I have just seen the manager.... Two nurses are coming." Alexandra could only stand and struggle with her voice. Her feelings were beyond expression. "I’m afraid—terribly afraid we have to face losing her," said Chalfont at last.