Dr. Merryweather seemed much affected. He shook her hand several times, but his voice remained gruff as she had always remembered and slightly feared it. "You must be exceedingly careful of yourself, Miss Grace," he said bluntly, "Miss Annie has had too much of you." Too much of her. Ah, well, she could never reproach herself for having spared an inch of her patience, an atom of her slender strength. "Remember," said Dr. Merryweather, "courage does not all lie in self-sacrifice, though"--and he looked long at the kind beautiful eyes of Miss Grace--"a great deal of it is invested there." He held her hand warmly for a second again, and that was the end of it. Miss Grace went home fortified to a second edition of her life with Miss Annie. Adelaide Maud gave up her semi-suzerainty over the masterful Saunders with some real regret. It was fun for her to be engaged in anything which did not entail mere social engagements. Miss Annie liked her thoroughly, liked the swirl of her tweed skirts, the daintiness of her silk blouses, the gleam of her golden hair. Adelaide Maud had straight fine features, pretty mauve eyes ("They are mauve, my dear, no other word describes them," she declared), very clearly arched eyebrows, and "far too determined a chin." "Where did you get your chin?" asked Miss Annie continually. "My father had the face of an angel. It wasn’t from him," said Adelaide Maud. "I have my mother to thank for my chin." "Well, Heaven help the man who tries to cross you, my dear," said Miss Annie, who had a very capable chin of her own, as it happened. The tired petulant look of the invalid only showed at the droop to the corners of her mouth. Elma could no longer interest Adelaide Maud in Cuthbert. It seemed as though he had no further existence. Until one day when she told her that Cuthbert had an appointment which would last throughout the summer, and keep him tied to town. Then the chin of Adelaide Maud seemed to resolve itself into less chilly lines. "Oh, won’t you miss him?" she suddenly asked. Adelaide Maud was the most comprehending person. She pulled Elma to her and kissed her when Elma said that it wasn’t "missing," it simply wasn’t "living" without Cuthbert. "I’m so sorry you quarrelled with him," she said to Adelaide Maud. Adelaide Maud grew stonily angry. "Quarrel with him?" she asked. It reminded Elma of the Dudgeon’s first call "Oh, please don’t," she cried in alarm. "Then I won’t," said Adelaide Maud, "but will you kindly inform me when I quarrelled with your brother Cuthbert." It was exactly in the tone of one who would never think of quarrelling with the Leighton set. Elma grew quite pale, then her courage rose. "He thinks such a lot of you, and you don’t think anything of him. Just as though we weren’t good enough!" "Oh, Elma," said Adelaide Maud. "And he likes you, and keeps things you drop, and you won’t even speak to him." "Keeps things I drop!" The murder was out.