Garth sat sideways in the chair, his arms folded on the table beside him, his face buried in them. He was sobbing as she had sometimes heard men sob after agonising operations, borne without a sound until the worst was over. And Garth's sob of agony was this: "OH, MY WIFE--MY WIFE--MY WIFE!" Jane crept away. How she did it she never knew. But some instinct told her that to reveal herself then, taking him at a disadvantage, when Dr. Rob's story had unnerved and unmanned him, would be to ruin all. "IF YOU VALUE YOUR ULTIMATE HAPPINESS AND HIS," Deryck's voice always sounded in warning. Besides, it was such a short postponement. In the calm earnest thought which would succeed this storm, his need of her, would win the day. The letter, not yet posted, would be rewritten. He would say "COME"--and the next minute he would be in her arms. So Jane turned noiselessly away. Coming in, an hour later, from her walk with Dr. Rob, her heart filled with glad anticipation, she found him standing in the window, listening to the countless sounds he was learning to distinguish. He looked so slim and tall and straight in his white flannels, both hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat, that when he turned at her approach it seemed to her as if the shining eyes MUST be there. "Was it lovely in the woods?" he asked. "Simpson shall take me up there after lunch. Meanwhile, is there time, if you are not tired, Miss Gray, to finish our morning's work?" Five letters were dictated and a cheque written. Then Jane noticed that hers to him had gone from among the rest. But his to her lay on the table ready for stamping. She hesitated. "And about the letter to Miss Champion?" she said. "Do you wish it to go as it is, Mr. Dalmain?" "Why certainly," he said. "Did we not finish it?" "I thought," said Jane nervously, looking away from his blank face, "I thought perhaps--after Dr. Rob's story--you might--" "Dr. Rob's story could make no possible difference as to whether I should let her come here or not," said Garth emphatically; then added more gently: "It only reminded me--" "Of what?" asked Jane, her hands upon her breast. "Of what a glorious woman she is," said Garth Dalmain, and blew a long, steady cloud of smoke into the summer air. CHAPTER XXIII THE ONLY WAY When Deryck Brand alighted at the little northern wayside station, he looked up and down the gravelled platform, more than half expecting to see Jane. The hour was early, but she invariably said "So much the better" to any plan which involved rising earlier than usual. Nothing was to be seen, however, but his portmanteau in the distance--looking as if it had taken up a solitary and permanent position where the guard had placed it--and one slow porter, who appeared to be overwhelmed by the fact that he alone was on duty to receive the train. There were no other passengers descending; there was no other baggage to put out. The guard swung up into his van as the train moved off.