She had to laugh a little, though still with that horrified sense of tragedy at her heart.

He laughed too his careless boyish laugh, and in a moment all the electricity of the past few moments had gone out of the atmosphere.  He leaned forward unexpectedly and transferred a wing of chicken from his plate to hers.

“Look here, Avery!  You must eat.  It’s absurd.  So fire away like a sensible woman!”

There was no tenderness in his tone, but, oddly, she thrilled to its imperiousness, conscious of the old magnetism compelling her.  She began to eat in silence.

Piers ate too in his usual quick fashion, glancing at her once or twice but making no further comment.

“Tell me about Jeanie!” he said, finally.  “What has brought her to this?  Can’t we do anything—­take her to Switzerland or somewhere?”

Avery shook her head.  “Can’t you see?” she said, in a low voice.

He frowned upon her abruptly.  “I see lots,” he said enigmatically.  “It’s quite hopeless, what?  Wyndham told me as much.  But—­I don’t believe in hopeless things.”

Avery looked at him, mystified by his tone.  “She is dying,” she said.

“I don’t believe in death either,” said Piers, in the tone of one who challenged the world.  “And now look here, Avery!  Let’s make the best of things for the kiddie’s sake!  She’s had a rotten time all her days.  Let’s give her a decent send-off, what?  Let’s give her the time of her life before she goes!”

He got up suddenly from his chair and went to the open window.

Avery turned her head to watch him, but for some reason she could not speak.

He went on vehemently, his face turned from her.  “In Heaven’s name don’t let’s be sorry!  It’s such a big thing to go out happy.  Let’s play the game!  I know you can; you were always plucky.  Let’s give her everything she wants and some over!  What, Avery, what?  I’m not asking for myself.”

She did not know exactly what he was asking, but she did not dare to tell him so.  She sat quite silent, feeling her heart quicken, striving desperately to be calm.

He flung round suddenly, and came to her.  “Will you do it?” he said.

She raised her eyes to his.  She was white to the lips.

He made one of his quick, half-foreign gestures.  “Don’t!” he said harshly.  “You make me feel such a brute.  Can’t you trust me—­can’t you pretend to trust me—­for Jeanie’s sake?” His hand closed fiercely on the back of her chair.  He bent towards her.  “It’s only a hollow bargain.  You’ll hate it of course.  Do you suppose I shall enjoy it any better?  Do you suppose I would ask it of you for any reason but this?”

Something in his face or voice pierced her.  She felt again that dreadful pain at her heart, as if the blood were draining from it with every beat.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Piers,” she said at last.