In her case the doctor himself was agreeably surprised. She was recovering, he had said! She would yet live to cheat her enemies! Gerald, realising this, was in the seventh heaven of delight. He was, of course, in ignorance of what had transpired at Pont Street, or of the suspicion of Charles Emery, the man who had made the actual assignment of Mrs. Morrison’s insurance. On the following morning, after hearing the doctor’s good news, he sat beside Marigold’s bed, and by slow degrees the girl recognised her lover as he bent over her and tenderly kissed her upon the brow. The light of recognition suddenly shone in her eyes, and smiling, she gripped his hand. "Yes, darling, I am home again!" he said in a soft voice. "Home—to find that you are getting better. You’ve been very ill. But you’ll soon be well again, thank God!" For some moments the girl was too overcome by emotion to speak, but at last her lips moved, and in a voice scarcely audible she pronounced his name. "Gerald!" she articulated with difficulty, raising her hand until it rested against his cheek. "Gerald! _My Gerald_!" "Yes, darling! I am here with you!" he assured her soothingly, for they were alone together, the doctor having just left. "You have been very, very ill." "Yes," she whispered, "very ill." Then she closed her eyes for fully five minutes, as though the strain of speaking had been too much for her, while he sat at her bedside watching breathlessly the white countenance of the girl who was all in all to him. At last she again opened her eyes, and in a voice scarce above a whisper, asked: "Where have you been all this long, long time?" "Abroad, dear. But don’t worry about that! I’m back," he said cheerfully. "Back with you. Rest, and you will soon be quite well again." Again she closed her eyes and turned her head slightly upon the pillow. And as she did this, Gerald again kissed her upon the brow. About two hours later her condition showed a marked improvement, but Gerald had not left her side for a moment. At noon she seemed so much better that he decided to go over to Ealing and obtain a suit of his own clothes, so as to make himself more presentable. This he did. His sister was naturally delighted to see him, but save for a brief explanation of his absence he did not enter into any details concerning it. His anxiety was to return to Wimbledon Park. He had at first contemplated going to Mincing Lane to explain his absence, but had now decided to postpone that until the morrow. So about three o’clock he was back again at Marigold’s bedside, delighted to find the great improvement which had taken place during the past few hours. The serum was doing its work, and slowly she was returning to her old self again. When they were alone, and Gerald was once more seated beside her, she turned to him, and in a low, intense voice asked if her sister had told him of the fire in Bridge Place.