balusters, then slowly ascended the stairs. Her husband's face
was turned to the ceiling, his hands clasped above his head. She
took up her stand by the fireplace, resting one silk-slippered
foot on the fender. 'Dr Simon is reassuring,' she said, 'but I do
hope, Arthur, you will follow his advice. He looks a fairly
clever man.... But with a big practice.... Do you think, dear, he
quite realised the extent of the--the change?'

'I told him what happened,' said her husband's voice out of the
bed-clothes.

'Yes, yes, I know,' said Sheila soothingly; 'but we must remember
he is comparatively a stranger. He would not detect--'

'What did he tell you?' asked the voice.

Mrs Lawford deliberately considered. If only he would always thus
keep his face concealed, how much easier it would be to discuss
matters rationally. 'You see, dear,' she said softly, 'I know, of
course, nothing about the nerves; but personally, I think his
suggestion absurd. No mere fancy, surely, can make a lasting
alteration in one's face. And your hair--I don't want to say
anything that may seem unkind--but isn't it really quite a
distinct shade darker, Arthur?'

'Any great strain will change the colour of a man's hair,' said
Lawford stolidly; 'at any rate, to white. Why, I read once of a
fellow in India, a Hindoo, or something, who--'

'But have you HAD any intense strain, or anxiety?' broke in