How long she stood there she did not know, but the points of her gloved fingers were still resting on the table and her gaze was still concentrated on the envelope when she felt Selwyn's presence in the room, near, close; and looked up into his steady eyes. And knew he loved her. And suddenly she broke down--for with his deep gaze in hers the overwrought spectre had fled!--broke down, no longer doubting, bowing her head in her slim gloved hands, thrilled to the soul with the certitude of their unhappiness eternal, and the dreadful pleasure of her share. "What is it?" he made out to say, managing also to keep his hands off her where she sat, bowed and quivering by the table. "N-nothing. A--a little crisis--over now--nearly over. It was that letter--other women writing you. . . . And I--outlawed--tongue-tied. . . . Don't look at me, don't wait. I--I am going out." He went to the window, stood a moment, came back to the table, took his letter, and walked slowly again to the window. After a while he heard the rustle of her gown as she left the room, and a little later he straightened up, passed his hand across his tired eyes, and, looking down at the letter in his hand, broke the seal. It was from one of the nurses, Miss Casson, and shorter than usual: "Mrs. Ruthven is physically in perfect health, but yesterday we noted a rather startling change in her mental condition. There were, during the day, intervals that seemed perfectly lucid. Once she spoke of Miss Bond as 'the other nurse,' as though she realised something of the conditions surrounding her. Once, too, she seemed astonished when I brought her a doll, and asked me:' Is there a child here? Or is it for a charity bazaar?' "Later I found her writing a letter at my desk. She left it unfinished when she went to drive--a mere scrap. I thought it best to enclose it, which I do, herewith." The enclosure he opened: "Phil, dear, though I have been very ill I know you are my own husband. All the rest was only a child's dream of terror--" And that was all--only this scrap, firmly written in the easy flowing hand he knew so well. He studied it for a moment or two, then resumed Miss Casson's letter: "A man stopped our sleigh yesterday, asking if he was not speaking to Mrs. Ruthven. I was a trifle worried, and replied that any communication for Mrs. Ruthven could be sent to me. "That evening two men--gentlemen apparently--came to the house and asked for me. I went down to receive them. One was a Dr. Mallison, the other said his name was Thomas B. Hallam, but gave no business address. "When I found that they had come without your knowledge and authority, I refused to discuss Mrs. Ruthven's condition, and the one who said his name was Hallam spoke rather peremptorily and in a way that made me think he might be a lawyer. "They got nothing out of me, and they left when I made it plain that I had nothing to tell them.