"Billie has a high temperature, Mr Thorold. I think a doctor ought to see him." He looked shocked--incredulous. "To-night! Wouldn't to-morrow morning--?" "I should advise you to see him to-night. It may be nothing but a feverish cold, but it is half the battle to start treatment in time. He is nearly 103." "I will telephone at once," he said shortly, and marched out of the room. The tenants of Heath Mansions do not, as a rule, run to the extravagance of possessing a private telephone, but down in the basement there is a species of ice cupboard, where, in surroundings of abject dreariness, we deposit our pence and shout messages, to the entertainment and enlightenment of the maids at "Well" windows. Mr Thorold was bound for this haunt, and the nice Mr Hallett and I sat down to entertain one another during his absence. He is nice! I liked him the moment I saw him, and I went on liking him more and more. He is a big, powerfully-built man, but his face is thin, the fine moulding of the bones showing distinctly beneath their slight covering. The clean line of his jaw is a joy to behold; his eyes are dark and unusually deep-set--I would say "cavernous," if I had not a particular dislike to the word. He has large, expressive hands, and a low-pitched, unusually deliberate way of talking. "I hope the youngster is not going to develop anything serious!" "I hope not. He is a dear little fellow. It is so sad to see a child ill." "It is; but--frankly!" he said, with a slow, grave glance, "I was thinking more of my friend. He has had more than his share of trouble, and another spell of anxiety would be hard luck. It's a big strain on a man to play father _and_ mother to a growing family." "There is one thing which would be harder! To have no growing family to look after, and to take his mind off himself." He looked at me sharply, and as sharply looked away. I had a lightning impression that I had touched a tender spot, but it passed the next moment at sound of the perfectly calm, perfectly controlled voice:-- "You think that is so? I should be glad to agree, but Frank has lost an ideal companion. I did not imagine that such young children could fill the gap--" "In a sense they never can, but they fill so many smaller gaps that it is impossible to think of the big one all the time. If you had any idea what it is to live in a flat this size, with five small children tumbling over each other all day long, laughing and quarrelling and getting into mischief on every conceivable occasion, behaving like perfect little fiends one hour and angels straight from heaven the next--well, you would realise that there isn't much time left over to sit down and nurse a private woe!" He smiled. He smiles, as the Scotch say, "with deefficulty". The lines of his face are all set for gravity and reserve. "That is so. But at night? After such a tornado the solitary evenings must seem lonelier than ever."