touched a keen fibre in his heart. He lifted his eyebrows with a negligent, indifferent expression.

‘No — nothing new,’ he replied, as if the question were quite casual, trivial. ‘He says the pulse is very weak indeed, very intermittent — but that doesn’t necessarily mean much, you know.’

He looked down at her. Her eyes were dark and soft and unfolded, with a stricken look that roused him.

‘No,’ she murmured at length. ‘I don’t understand anything about these things.’

‘Just as well not,’ he said. ‘I say, won’t you have a cigarette? — do!’ He quickly fetched the box, and held her a light. Then he stood before her on the hearth again.