Jocelyn glanced thoughtfully across at Crawshay, who was contemplating
his empty cup with apparent regret.

"You will not think that I am taking a liberty, Miss Beverley, if I
ask you a question?"

"Why should I? Is it so very personal?"

"As a matter of fact, it isn't personal at all. I was only going to
ask you if you would mind telling me what our friend Mr. Crawshay was
talking to you about just now?" "Are you really interested?" she
asked, with an air of faint surprise. "Well, if you must know, he was
asking questions about my patient. He appears to be something of a
hypochondriac himself, and he is very interested in illnesses."

"He has the air of one who takes care of himself," Jocelyn observed,
with a faint smile. "However, one mustn't judge. He may be delicate."

"I think he is an old woman," she remarked carelessly.

"He rather gives one that impression, doesn't he?" Jocelyn agreed.
"By-the-by, there wasn't much you could tell him about your patient,
was there?"

"There really isn't anything at all," she replied. "I just mentioned
his condition, and as Mr. Crawshay still seemed curious, I reminded
him that it was not etiquette to question a nurse about her patients."

"Most discreet," Jocelyn declared. "As a matter of fact," he went on,