The men sat together but a short time after the ladies left them. They had one subject in common of which neither wished to speak. Gabriel smoked only a cigarette, Peter praised the port, which happened to be exceptionally bad; the weather was a topic that drew blank. Fortunately they struck upon Pineland and its health-giving qualities, upon which both were enthusiastic. Peter Kennedy was in Gabriel’s secret, but Gabriel had no intuition of his. “Mrs. Capel seems to have derived great benefit from her stay. Probably from your treatment also,” he said courteously. His thoughts were so full of her; how could he speak of anything else? “I can’t do much for her,” Peter said gloomily. He had had the greater part of a bottle of champagne, and the port on the top of it. “She doesn’t do a thing I tell her. She doesn’t care whether I’m dead or alive.” “I am sure you are wrong,” Gabriel reassured him earnestly. “She has, I am sure, the highest possible opinion of your skill. She carries out your régime as far as possible. You think she should rest more?” “She should do nothing but rest.” “But with an active mind?” “It is not only her mind that is active.” “You mean the piano-playing, writing....” “She ought just to vegetate. She has a weak heart, one of the valves....” Gabriel rose hurriedly, it was not possible for him to listen to a description of his beloved’s physical ailments. He was shocked with Peter for wishing to tell him, genuinely shocked. It was a breach of professional etiquette, of good manners. They arrived upstairs in the music room completely out of tune. “He wouldn’t even listen when I told him how seedy you were, that you ought to be kept quiet. Selfish owl. You’ve been out with him all day.” “I rested for half an hour before dinner. Do I look tired or washed out?” She turned a radiant face to Peter for investigation. “I am going to play to you presently, when you will see if I am without power.” “Power! Who said you were without that? You’d have power over the devil tonight.” “Or over my eccentric physician.” She smiled at him. “Have you been behaving yourself prettily downstairs?” “I haven’t told him what I think of him, if that’s what you mean!” “Will you play first?” she asked him. Peter Kennedy was a genuine music lover, and he played well, very much better since Margaret Capel had come to Pineland. He sang also, but this accomplishment Margaret would never let him display. She had no use for a man’s singing since James Capel had lured her with his love songs. Gabriel was talking to his sister whilst Margaret and Peter had this little conversation. He was persuading her to an early retreat. “Did you send my telegram to Mrs. Roope? I am sure I am getting better, I have been thinking so all the evening. She must have been treating me.”