"That's not all," she said, "and the rest is so dreadful, and so pathetic. I couldn't sleep last night, and it must have been about two in the morning when I got out of bed and went to the window and sat there a little. And I saw Thurso come along the path, and he lit a match and found the bottle. Then he took it--it was bright moonlight; I could see quite clearly--and literally sucked it, to see if there was not a drop or two left." Maud had no reply to this. If it was despicable, it was, as Catherine had said, dreadfully pathetic. "Advise me, dear Maud," she said at length. "I am horribly troubled about it. The sight of him turning that damned little bottle--no, I'm not sorry: I meant it--upside down in his mouth showed me how awfully he wanted it. I feel one shouldn't lose a day or a minute. The desire grows like an aloe-flower. But if he won't see a doctor, what is to be done? I shall send for Sir James as soon as I get back to town, and tell him all about it; but I can't force Thurso to see him. Besides----" and she stopped. "Yes?" "There is nothing in the world so hard to cure," she said. "It is deadlier than a cancer." "But he still wants to free himself," said Maud. "Yes; so does a prisoner." There was a pause. "Or do you think I am taking too pessimistic a view?" asked Catherine. Maud could not help seeing the bright side of things. Sunshine appealed to her more strongly than shadow. It was more real to her. "Yes; I think you are," she said. "He let you pour the--well, the damned stuff away. You influenced him more strongly than his desire." "Yes, than his satisfied desire," said Catherine with terrible commonsense. "He had just taken it. Do you suppose he would have let me pour it away if he was just going to take it?" "I don't know. You are stronger than he, I think." Maud gave a great sigh, picking up her book. "I remember Mr. Cochrane practically offered to cure his neuralgia," she said, "but I knew it was perfectly useless to suggest it to Thurso; nor at the time did I believe in Mr. Cochrane. But since then----" Catherine looked up, and saw in Maud's face what she had suspected. "Oh, Maud!" she said. "Are you in love with him?" Maud leaned forward, and her book again dropped face downwards on the gravel. She did not notice it.