She hated the very word "plan" since his story of the trick he had played at the Savoy. She hated the necessity to talk with him; but it _was_ a necessity. They ought to arrange something for the future--the blank and hateful future--before Parker came, and daily life began. There would be many things to settle, questions to ask and answer; a sort of hideous campaign would have to be mapped out in details not one of which defined itself clearly in her tired brain. "It's no use," she said to herself. "I can't think, after all, until I see him again. Perhaps he will make some suggestions, and I can accept or refuse. But I _can't_ go to his door and call him." As she hesitated, Knight--who was a knight no longer in her eyes--opened the door, very softly, not to disturb her if she slept. In the morning light which paled the uncurtained window their eyes met. Annesley slipped off the bed and stood up, cloaking her bare white neck with her hair. Suddenly she felt that he was a strange man who had no right to be in her room. He was not the husband she had loved with a beautiful and sacred love. "I won't come if you'd rather I didn't," he said. "I only looked in to see if you were awake. I thought if you were, and if you could stand it, it would be best to--talk about what's to be done." He spoke quietly, standing at the door. He was dressed for the day, as if nothing had happened; and Annesley felt dimly resentful because he looked bathed and well-groomed, his black hair smooth and carefully brushed; altogether his usual self, except that he was pale and grave. "You had better come in, I suppose," the girl replied, grudgingly. "I was thinking, too, that we must talk. Let us--get it over." "You haven't been to bed, I see," he said, his eyes lingering on her sadly. It flashed through Annesley's mind that it was as if he were looking for the last time at the sweetness and happiness of life. But her heart did not soften. It was his fault that there was no longer any happiness or sweetness left in their lives. "No, I haven't been to bed," she returned. "But it doesn't matter. I am not ill. Please let us not waste time in discussing me. There are other things." "Yes, there are other things," he agreed. "But we'll not begin to talk of them until you have got into bed and covered yourself up. You're as white as marble." "I don't want----" she began; but he cut her short. "What will Parker think if she finds your bed hasn't been slept in?" "Oh, very well!" Annesley assented, impatiently. "I must get used to tricks!" "Perhaps not," said Knight. "I've been thinking of ways and means. Have you? Because if there's anything you feel you would like to do, you've only to tell me." "I haven't been able to think," she confessed. "Well, then, I'll tell you what I've thought."