Valancy looked at him.

“You told me, in your letter,” she said slowly, with a curious feeling that some one else was talking through her lips, “that I had angina pectoris — in the last stages — complicated with an aneurism. That I might die any minute — that I couldn’t live longer than a year.”

Dr. Trent stared at her.

“Impossible!” he said blankly. “I couldn’t have told you that!”

Valancy took his letter from her bag and handed it to him.

“Miss Valancy Stirling,” he read. “Yes — yes. Of course I wrote you — on the train — that night. But I told you there was nothing serious —