the Grand Hotel, patiently awaiting her descent. By mere chance she was
un-Callendered.

"Why, what--?"

The intended reproval died on her lips as she saw his face. His cheeks were
hollow and white, his eyes sunken The man was ill. His hand burned through
her glove. Feelings warm and new gushed forth.

"Oh, my _dear_ friend, what is the matter?"

"I must go back to England. I came to say good-bye. I've had this from
Wiggleswick."

He handed her an open letter. She waved it away.

"That's of no consequence. Sit down. You're ill. You have a high
temperature. You should be in bed."

"I've been," said Septimus. "Four days."

"And you've got up in this state? You must go back at once. Have you seen a
doctor? No, of course you haven't. Oh, dear!" She wrung her hands. "You are
not fit to be trusted alone. I'll drive you to your hotel and see that
you're comfortable and send for a doctor."

"I've left the hotel," said Septimus. "I'm going to catch the eleven train.
My luggage is on that cab."

"But it's five minutes past eleven now. You have lost the train--thank