Lawford's face smiled--a rather desperate, yet for all that a
patient, resolute smile. 'Oh yes, of course,' he said, almost to
himself, 'I had not foreseen--at least--you must do precisely
what you please, Sheila. You were going to lock me in. You will,
however, before taking any final step, please think over what it
will entail. I did not think you would, after such proof, in this
awful trouble--I did not think you would simply disbelieve me,
Sheila. Who else is there to help me? You have the letter in your
hand. Isn't that sufficient proof? It was overwhelming proof to
me. And even I doubted too; doubted myself. But never mind; why I
should have dreamed you would believe me; or taken this awful
thing differently, I don't know. It's rather awful to have to go
on alone. But there, think it over. I shall not stir until I hear
the voices. And then: honestly, Sheila, I couldn't face quite
that. I'd sooner give up altogether. Any proof you can think of--
I will... O God, I cannot bear it!' He covered his face with his
hands; but in a moment looked up, unmoved once more. 'Why, for
that matter,' he added slowly, and, as it were, with infinite
pains, a faint thin smile again stealing into his face, 'I
think,' he turned wearily to the glass, 'I think, it's almost an
improvement!'

Something deep in those dark clear pupils, out of that lean
adventurous face, gleamed back at him, the distant flash of a
heliograph, as it were, height to height, flashing 'Courage!' He
shuddered, and shut his eyes. 'But I would really rather,' he
aided in a quiet childlike way, 'I would really rather, Sheila,
you left me alone now.'

His wife stood irresolute. 'I understand you to explain,' she