nourishment. There's nothing; temperature inconsiderable. All
perfectly intelligible. Most certainly reassure yourself! And as
for the change you speak of'--he looked steadily at the dark face
on the pillow and smiled amiably--'I don't think we need worry
much about that. It certainly was a bleak wind yesterday--and a
cemetery, my dear sir! It was indiscreet--yes, very.' He held out
his hand. 'You must not be alarmed,' he said, very distinctly
with the merest trace of an accent; 'air, sunshine, quiet,
nourishment; sleep--that is all. The little window might be a few
inches open, and--and any light reading.'

He opened the door and joined Mrs Lawford on the staircase. He
talked to her quietly over his shoulder all the way downstairs.
'It was, it was sporting with Providence--a wind, believe me,
nearly due east, in spite of the warm sunshine.'

'But the change--the change!' Mrs Lawford managed to murmur
tragically, as he strode to the door. Dr Simon smiled, and
gracefully tapped his forehead with a red-gloved forefinger.

'Humour him, humour him,' he repeated indulgently. 'Rest and
quiet will soon put that little trouble out of his head. Oh yes,
I did notice it--the set drawn look, and the droop: quite so.
Good morning.'

Mrs Lawford gently closed the door after him. A glimpse of Ada,
crossing from room to room, suggested a precaution. She called
out in her clearest notes. 'If Dr Ferguson should call while I am
out, Ada, will you please tell him that Dr Simon regretted that
he was unable to wait? Thank you.' She paused with hand on the