Then Mrs. Tams, who had been clearing away the tea-things, came into the bedroom and said-- "Here's Mr. Fores, miss." Rachel started. "Mr. Fores! What does he want?" she asked querulously. Mrs. Tams preserved her blandness. "He asked for you, miss." "Didn't he ask how Mrs. Maldon is?" "No, miss." "Well, I don't want to see him. You might run down and tell him what the doctor said, Mrs. Tams." She tried to make her voice casually persuasive. "Shall I, miss?" said Miss Tams doubtfully, and turned to the door. Rachel was again full of fear and resentment. Louis had committed the infamy of luring her into the cinematograph. It was through him that she had "got herself talked about." Mrs. Maldon's last words had been a warning against him. He and Mr. Batchgrew had desecrated the sick-room with their mysterious visitations. And now Louis was come again. From what catastrophes had not Mrs. Maldon's warning saved her! "Here! I'll go," said Rachel, in a sudden resolve. "I'm glad on it," said Mrs. Tams simply. In the parlour Louis stood in front of the fire. Although the blinds were drawn, the gas had not been lighted; but the fire and the powerful street lamp together sufficed to give clearness to every object in the room. The table had been restored to its proper situation. The gift of grapes ornamented the sideboard. "Good-evening," said Rachel sullenly, as if pouting. She avoided looking at Louis, and sat down on the Chesterfield. Louis broke forth in a cascade of words-- "I say, I'm most awfully sorry. I hadn't the faintest notion this afternoon she was any worse--not the faintest. Otherwise I shouldn't have dreamt--I met the doctor just now in Moorthorne Road, and he told me." "What did he tell you?" asked Rachel, still with averted head, picking at her frock. "Well, he gave me to understand there's very little hope, and nothing to be done. If I'd had the faintest notion--" "You needn't worry about that," said Rachel. "Your coming made no difference. The doctor said so." And she asked herself why she should go out of her way to reassure Louis. It would serve him right to think that his brusque visit, with Mr. Batchgrew's, was the origin of the relapse. "Is there any change?" Louis asked. Rachel shook her head "No," she said. "We just have to sit and watch." "Doctor's coming in again to-night, isn't he?" Rachel nodded. "It seems it's an embolus." Rachel nodded once more. She had still no conception of what an embolus was; but she naturally assumed that Louis could define an embolus with exactitude. "I say," said Louis, and his voice was suddenly charged with magical qualities of persuasion, entreaty, and sincerity--"I say, you might look at me."