The doctor glanced at the clock, and buttoned his coat. He had one minute to spare. "My friend," he said, "a second time I have come as the bearer of evil tidings." "Not evil," replied Myra, in a tone of hopeless sadness. "This is not a world to which we could possibly desire the return of one we love." "There is nothing wrong with the world," said the doctor. "Our individual heaven or hell is brought about by our own actions." "Or by the actions of others," amended Lady Ingleby, bitterly. "Or by the actions of others," agreed the doctor. "But, even then, we cannot be completely happy, unless we are true to our best selves; nor wholly miserable, unless to our own ideals we become false. I fear I must be off; but I do not like leaving you thus alone." Lady Ingleby glanced at the clock, rose, and gave him her hand. "You have been more than kind, Sir Deryck, in coming to me yourself. I shall never forget it. And I am expecting Jane Champion--Dalmain, I mean; why do one's friends get married?--any minute. She is coming direct from town; the phaeton has gone to the station to meet her." "Good," said the doctor, and clasped her hand with the strong silent sympathy of a man who, desiring to help, yet realises himself in the presence of a grief he is powerless either to understand or to assuage. "Good--very good," he said, as he stepped into the motor, remarking to the chauffeur: "We have nine minutes; and if we miss the train, I must ask you to run me up to town." And he said it a third time, even more emphatically, when he had recovered from his surprise at that which he saw as the motor flew down the avenue. For, after passing Lady Ingleby's phaeton returning from the station empty excepting for a travelling coat and alligator bag left upon the seat, he saw the Honourable Mrs. Dalmain walking slowly beneath the trees, in earnest conversation with a very tall man, who carried his hat, letting the breeze blow through his thick rumpled hair. Both were too preoccupied to notice the motor, but as the man turned his haggard face toward his companion, the doctor saw in it the same stony look of hopeless despair, which had grieved and baffled him in Lady Ingleby's. The two were slowly wending their way toward the house, by a path leading down to the terrace. "Evidently--the man," thought the doctor. "Well, I am glad Jane has him in tow. Poor souls! Providence has placed them in wise hands. If faithful counsel and honest plain-speaking can avail them anything, they will undoubtedly receive both, from our good Jane." Providence also arranged that the London express was one minute late, and the doctor caught it. Whereat the chauffeur rejoiced; for he was "walking out" with Her ladyship's maid, whose evening off it chanced to be. The all-important events of life are apt to hang upon the happenings of one minute. CHAPTER XXIV MRS. DALMAIN REVIEWS THE SITUATION