"Conceited ass!" muttered Lessing under his breath. He looked at Delia and saw beneath her pretence of indifference a mistiness of eye, a tremor at the corner of the lips, the meaning of which was plain even to his obtuse masculine senses, and at the sight his prudence fled to the winds. "Delia!" he cried rapturously. "Delia! Oh, my darling, do you mean to say that you _care_? Delia, does it matter to you whether I go or stay? Do you really, really mean to say--" "I--I didn't say anything--I--I--_of course_, I care! Oh, Val, you _are_ stupid!" cried Delia, putting up two white hands to hide an exceedingly red face. Val knew a rapturous moment as he bent to take those hands in his, but, even as he moved, a warning rustle sounded from the bushes ahead, and he straightened himself in expectation of the advent of an intruder. And then, at that moment, with a spasm of fear freezing his hot blood, he saw once more the face of his enemy. While one might have counted six, it glared at him from between the branches--the swarthy, bearded face, with the tufted eyebrows, and the strong, protuberant teeth. For six long seconds the eyes gazed mockingly into his own. Poor palpitating Delia, peeping between her fingers, beheld her lover of a moment transformed into a stricken, grey-faced man, who sat huddled up on his seat, staring before him with a gaze of helpless despair. There was no more blushing and trembling after that--Delia simply wrapped her arms round his neck, and crooned over him with tender, loving words. "Val, my own Val. What is it? I'm here. Delia's here. Nobody shall hurt you, dearest; no one shall harm you. Delia's here. Look at me, Val--my own, own Val!" The words pierced. Through all the horror and the fear, their sweetness reached to the brain, and turned the current of his thoughts. One look he gave her, a look of passionate gratitude and love, then to her utter bewilderment he lifted her to her feet and drew her to the entrance of the summer-house. "Go, darling--go! Go quickly! You can help me best that way. Go quickly!" Delia stared at him, and a sudden explanation leaped into her brain. Heart disease! Val had discovered that his heart was affected, that was the reason of his changed looks. At the moment he was threatened with a spasm of pain, and man-like preferred to be alone. Obediently Delia walked away, her heart torn with sympathy. But when they were married she would take such good care of him, such incessant, all-encompassing care, that he must, he should get well! Lessing watched her go, and then deliberately moved a chair to the centre of the entrance to the summer-house, seated himself astride, and bent his head on the rail.