He looked at her for one half-second, and then, with rather slower-moving mind, recalled what he had said about not smoking any more. 'Yes, the doctors told me not to,' he said, feeling again the thrill of even this infinitesimal piece of fencing with her. 'They said it was a bad habit for me.' She got up. 'Charlie, I don't know if I was right to tell you that,' she said. 'You mean it may lead me to hope that--I assure you it shall not. But it leaves things less utterly hopeless.' She shook her head. 'You mustn't even think that,' she said. 'I can't help thinking that. While there is life, you know----I was lying'--and his eye brightened with a sudden excitement--' with throat ready for the guillotine. I could see it; they had not bandaged my eyes--but they have taken the knife away. No, I don't ask "What next?" The knife is gone: that is sufficient for the moment.' She stood close to him by the fire, with eyes that strayed from him to a picture, down to the fire again, and again back to him. 'It is late,' she said at length; 'I must go to bed, and so must you. I have got to go back to-morrow. I shall see you in the morning. Good-night.' He lit a candle for her, and she went to the foot of the stairs, then paused a moment, with her back to him. 'You will stop to smoke another cigarette before you come up,' she said. She heard him take a couple of steps inside the room she had just left, and then a vague sort of rustle. 'I have thrown them all into the fire,' said he. 'Oh, Charlie, how wasteful!' she cried, beginning to ascend the stairs; 'and how----' And she paused at the corner. He appeared in the doorway on the instant. 'How?' he asked. 'Nothing.' 'What were you going to say, Sybil?' said he. 'On oath, mind.' She leaned over the banisters. 'Premature,' she whispered, and rustled up the remaining steps.