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“Thank you,” Nina said. “I will.”

That evening she chanced to meet Archie Neville at a friend’s dinner-table and imparted to him her purpose.

“Jove!” he said. “Good idea! I’ll come with you, shall I?”

“Please not in the hansom!” she said.

“Not a bit of it,” returned Archie. “But you needn’t be nervous. I’ve sacked that man. No matter! We’ll go in a wheelbarrow if you think that’ll be safer.”

Nina laughed and agreed to accept his escort. Archie’s society was a very welcome distraction just then.

To her husband she made no mention of her intention. She had established the custom of going her own way at all times. It did not even cross her mind to introduce the subject. He was treating her with that sarcastic courtesy of his which was so infinitely hard to bear. It hurt her horribly, and because of the pain she avoided him as much as she dared.

She did not know how he spent his time on Sundays. Except for his presence at luncheon she found she was left as completely to her own devices as on other days.

She had agreed to drive Archie to the Wade Home in her husband’s landaulette.

Wingarde left the house before three and she was alone when Archie arrived.

The latter looked at her critically.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she returned instantly. “Why?”

“You’re looking off colour,” he said.

Nina turned from him impatiently.

“There is nothing the matter with me,” she said. “Shall we start?”

Archie said no more. But he glanced at her curiously from time to time. He wondered privately if her husband’s society were driving her to that extreme which she had told him she might reach eventually.

Visitors were being admitted to the Wade Home when they arrived. They were directed to the ward where lay the boy in whom they were interested. Nina presented him with flowers and a book, and sat for some time talking with him. The little fellow was hugely flattered by her attentions, though too embarrassed to express his pleasure in words. Archie amused himself by making pennies appear and disappear in the palms of his hands for the benefit of a sad-faced urchin in the next bed who had no visitors.

In the midst of this the matron bustled in to beg Nina and her companion to take a cup of tea in her room.

“Dr. Wade is here and sure to come in,” she said. “I should like you to meet him.”

Nina accordingly took leave of her protege, and, followed by Archie, repaired to the matron’s room.

The windows were thrown wide open, for the afternoon was hot. They sat down, feeling that tea was a welcome sight.

“I have a separate brew for Dr. Wade,” said the matron cheerily. “He likes it so very strong. He almost always takes a cup. There! I hear him coming now.”

There sounded a step in the passage and a man’s quiet laugh. Nina started slightly.

A moment later a voice in the doorway said:

“Ah! Here you are, Mrs. Ritchie! I have just been prescribing a piece of sugar for this patient of ours. Her mother is waiting to take her away.”

Nina was on her feet in an instant. All the blood seemed to rush to her heart. Its throbs felt thick and heavy. On the threshold her husband stood, looking full at her. In his arms was a little child.

“Dr. Wade!” smiled the matron. “You do spoil your patients, sir. There! Let me take her! Please come in! Your tea is just ready. I was just talking about you to Mrs. Wingarde, who came to see the boy who was knocked down by a hansom last week. Madam, this is Dr. Wade.”

She went forward to lift the child out of Wingarde’s arms. There followed a silence, a brief, hard-strung silence. Nina stood quite still. Her hands were unconsciously clasped together. She was white to the lips. But she kept her eyes raised to Wingarde’s face. He seemed to be looking through her, and in his eyes was that look with which he had regarded her when he had saved her life and Archie’s two days before.