"Well, not exactly ill; I can't truthfully say that; yet I've not been myself, I've not felt myself, I've not looked myself--" "No, I've noticed how very much paler you have grown; you seem to have lost your nice fresh color." She _had_ lost her nice fresh color; it had disappeared with the advent of the powder box, and Alfred had not, to use a very slang phrase, dropped down to the fact. "Well, I don't believe in leaving these things to mend themselves," Regina went on, busily pleating and unpleating the deep black lace which adorned the sleeves of her handsome tea-gown, "it's better to stop anything of that sort at the outset." "Well, you've been to a doctor?" "Yes, I've been strongly advised to go to Dr. Money-Berry in Harley Street. You see, I've got so very stout lately, Alfred, and he thinks my having gained in weight has put me all wrong. My heart is very feeble--compared with what it used to be." "My--_dear_! Ough! Tut, tut, tut--think of our going on and living our ordinary life and all the time you are suffering--it's dreadful to think of." "Well, not exactly suffering; I'm not quite an invalid. Dr. Money-Berry advised me to live very carefully during the next few months; he thinks I shall be all right if I leave off starchy foods--they are so bad for the valves of the heart and--and I don't want to leave you, Alfred," she said in a pathetic little voice. "Good heavens! Go away and leave me! What are you talking of, Queenie? If you were to go away and leave me--for another man--I should blow my brains out," and here he began to walk about the room. "And if I didn't, I should go to the devil." I am ashamed to record that there arose in Regina's mind a picture of Alfred, her noble Alfred! going headlong to the devil with a hussy of plump proportions. Alfred continued excitedly, "And if you were to leave me in the other sense--I don't know what I should do." "Dear Alfred, you would probably marry again," she observed quietly. "Never--never! Put that thought out of your mind once and for all. I should live out the rest of my life as best I could--but I really can't talk about it. You were perfectly right to go to a specialist, and you must follow out his treatment to the very letter. Now, promise me you will do everything he tells you, take all the medicine he gives you, and live by line and rule until he tells you that you are really out of danger."