‘I didn’t mean anything. Don’t listen to what I say. It’s only—it’s just Alice knowing, that was all; I mean at once.’ ‘Don’t for a moment suppose I am not perfectly aware that it is only Alice you think of. You were particularly anxious about my feelings, weren’t you? You broke the news to me with the tenderest solicitude. I am glad our—our daughter shares my husband’s love.’ ‘Look here,’ said Lawford densely, ‘you know that I love you as much as ever; but with this—as I am; what would be the good of my saying so?’ Mrs Lawford took a deep breath. And a voice called softly at the door, ‘Mother, are you there? Is father awake? May I come in?’ In a flash the memory returned to her; twenty-four hours ago she was asking that very question of this unspeakable figure that sat hunched-up before her. ‘One moment, dear,’ she called. And added in a very low voice, ‘Come here!’ Lawford looked up. ‘What?’ he said. ‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ she whispered, ‘it isn’t quite so bad.’ ‘For mercy’s sake, Sheila,’ he said, ‘don’t torture me; tell the poor child to go away.’ She paused. ‘Are you there, Alice? Would you mind, father says, waiting a little? He is so very tired.’ ‘Too tired to.... Oh, very well, mother.’ Mrs Lawford opened the door, and called after her, ‘Is Jimmie gone?’ ‘Oh, yes, hours.’ ‘Where did you meet?’ ‘I couldn’t get a carriage at the station. He carried my dressing-bag; I begged him not to. The other’s coming on. You know what Jimmie is. How very, very lucky I _did_ come home. I don’t know what made me; just an impulse; they did laugh at me so. Father dear—do speak to me; how are you now?’ Lawford opened his mouth, gulped, and shook his head. ‘Ssh, dear!’ whispered Sheila, ‘I think he has fallen asleep. I will be down in a minute.’ Mrs Lawford was about to close the door when Ada appeared. ‘If you please, ma’am,’ she said, ‘I have been waiting, as you told me, to let Dr Ferguson out, but it’s nearly seven now; and the table’s not laid yet.’ ‘I really should have thought, Ada,’ Sheila began, then caught back the angry words, and turned and looked over her shoulder into the room. ‘Do you think you will need anything more, Dr Ferguson?’ she asked in a sepulchral voice. Again Lawford’s lips moved; again he shook his head. ‘One moment, Ada,’ she said closing the door. ‘Some more medicine—what medicine? Quick! She mustn’t suspect.’ ‘“What medicine?”’ repeated Lawford stolidly. ‘Oh, vexing, vexing; don’t you _see_ we must send her out? Don’t you see? What was it you sent to Critchett’s for last night? Tell him that’s gone: we want more of _that_.’ Lawford stared heavily. Oh, yes, yes,’ he said thickly, ‘more of that....’ Sheila, with a shrug of extreme distaste and vexation, hastily opened the door. ‘Dr Ferguson wants a further supply of the drug which Mr Critchett made up for Mr Lawford yesterday evening. You had better go at once, Ada, and please make as much haste as you possibly can.’