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‘It may be well to see how matters lie,’ said Kate.

‘Essential is the word, Kate. It helps me to deal with them afterwards. Breakfast is often the key to my day.’

‘And to theirs too, I suppose,’ said Madge.

‘To theirs too, Madge. We need not pursue the point. But I watch the signs with an anxious eye. I often stand behind that table with my heart standing still and my blood running cold.’

‘And does Simon do the same?’ said Bennet.

‘He may speak for himself,’ said Ainger.

‘No,’ said Simon. ‘They usually seem to be polite.’

‘Polite!’ said Ainger. ‘I prefer any other sign. If there is any sort of outlet, the air may clear. I know what my day is going to be, by the time I carry out those trays.’

‘How did you feel when you thought the master might die?’ said Madge.

‘I will express it in a word, Madge. It is a good thing the suspense was short.’

‘I wonder if he is glad or sorry to be well again.’

‘Sorry, if he knows his own mind,’ said Halliday.

‘I should not wish him to do that,’ said Ainger. It would be to wish him not himself. I must try to give him hope.’

‘It is a pity you did not do that before.’

‘I have said that I blame myself.’

‘So you are not to blame any longer,’ said Mrs Frost.

‘People tend to the view,’ said Kate.

‘Then there are exceptions to the rule,’ said Ainger, in a quiet tone.

‘Are the signs of low spirits easy to read?’ said Kate.

‘Signs were wanting,’ said Ainger, in a deeper tone. ‘He contrived not to give them. It is a point I do not miss. It shows the scope of the resolve.’

‘He must be in a shamefaced mood.’

‘No,’ said Ainger, shaking his head with a smile, ‘he is lying on the sofa as if he were suffering from convalescence/And I cannot look at that sofa without a shudder, and the thought of him being carried away from it, white and still. I caught a glimpse of my own face in the glass, and it was the colour of a sheet.’

‘So you remembered to look at yourself as well as at him,’ said Halliday.

‘It is a providence that I bethought myself to enter the room,’ went on Ainger, as if he had not heard. ‘I pass over the shock to myself. It is a thing to be disposed of.’

‘Do you think he will do it again?’ said Madge.

‘I do not. I have his word. I bethought myself to exact it.’

‘I should think Mr Clare would keep the tablets away from him,’ said Bennet.

‘He may,’ said Ainger. ‘He may scorn to do so.’

‘When did you see the master?’ said Simon.

‘I have had free access to him all the time.’

‘You did not seem to avail yourself of it?’ said Halliday.

Ainger looked at him for a moment.

‘Halliday, he lay unconscious.’

‘Were you able to say a word to him, when he was in the shadow?’ said Kate.

‘I tried to lighten that passage for him, as I hope someone will one day do it for me.’

‘You talk as if he had died,’ said Halliday.

‘The outcome was veiled in doubt.’

‘He was in the valley,’ said Kate.

‘How does Mr Clare take it?’ said Bennet.

‘As hard as would be expected. We have exchanged a word. But it is a case where feelings lie beyond.’

‘So you have had the position of general supporter,’ said Halliday.

‘And little as accrues to me from it, I ask no other.’

‘What was the master’s complaint against life?’ said Kate. ‘Life itself,’ said Ainger, in a deep tone. ‘What does the mistress say to all of it?’

‘Nothing as far as I am concerned. We are not on the terms. She maintains her distance, as she has a right. The gentlemen decide to ignore it.’

‘Does she feel it rebounds on her?’ said Kate.

‘She has given no sign, nor not to me. It is not her tendency.’

‘How soon will the master be well?’ said Madge.

‘He is able to talk today,’ said Bennet. ‘Mrs Clare and his father are with him in the library. The children are to go later.’

‘He would have something to listen to, if I were in their place,’ said Halliday.

‘Halliday, how your thoughts run on common lines!’ said Ainger, seeming to control himself by an effort.

‘We can imagine the scene,’ said Bennet, her tone recognizing the limits of this method.

‘I could be the first to do so,’ said Ainger, ‘and in consequence am the last who wishes to. I feel the recoil.’

The scene was in progress at the moment, and was outwardly as was said. Cassius lay on the couch, and his father and his wife stood by him. It was the first occasion when talk could take its normal course.

‘Well, we cannot congratulate you on your recovery, my boy. It is the opposite of what you hoped.’

‘I hope you congratulate yourselves on it,’ said Cassius, in a weak voice. Tor myself, I begin to see that life has its claims.’

‘Begin to see it! Then you took your time about arranging to get out of it.’

‘We have to stay where our lot is cast.’

‘That was not your view,’ said his wife.

‘Ah, Flavia, I am hardly in the mood for that tone today. Things were somehow too much for me. I must learn to see them differently.’

‘They will not be different,’ said Mr Clare. ‘It is a long habit to break.’

‘Does an attempt to escape from life give you a hold on it?’ said Flavia. ‘It seems a method that might defeat itself.’

‘Ah, Flavia, you are yourself,’ said Cassius. ‘And you do not remember that the same cannot be said of me.’

‘What was your reason for doing it, Cassius?’

‘I felt that life had little to give me, and that no one wanted what I had to give. It seemed to be time for my place to know me no more.’

‘Did you spare a thought to the rest of us?’ said Mr Clare.

‘I did, my dear old father. I can tell you my actual thought. It was that you and I would soon be united, and that no one else had need of me.’

‘You may have had a grievance,’ said his wife. ‘But not great enough to drive you to your death.’

‘You hardly seem serious, Flavia. Is it not a serious thing?’

‘I am trying to find out what it is.’

‘It is as I have told you. I will not try to estimate it. I may be a person whose hold on life is light.’

‘There is something about it I do not understand. I have no choice but to pursue it.’

‘No choice but to harass and harry me?’ said Cassius, gently.

‘None but to try and discover your reason for what you did.’

‘To be without heart and hope is reason enough.’

‘Not for many of us, and not for you. I am not a stranger to you.’

‘My poor wife, that is just what you are. It is what you have always been. How clearly I see it! It did not make me less alone.’

‘What was in your mind? Or what was on it? I ask you to tell me the truth.’

‘I am not the hero of a detective story, Flavia.’

‘You need not be so longer than you like,’ said Mr Clare.

‘You cannot face the truth,’ said Cassius, looking at his wife. ‘You know it and will not accept it. There is no more to be said.’

‘More will be said and more will be thought. You are right that I do not accept your account as the true one.’

‘Do you accept it, Father? Do you take my word?’

‘I do not expect you to tell us what you are keeping to yourself, my boy. What is the truth about one thing? Are you glad you failed to do your work?’

‘I may get to be glad,’ said Cassius, wearily. ‘This is not the way to make me so. I did not expect these dealings. I was not prepared for an attack. I see it is easier to face death than to face life.’