She left his supporting arm with an effort.  “Well, what is it?”

“That you will go to bed in the proper and correct way and sleep till further notice,” he said.  “You can’t go for ever, believe me.  And you need it.”

He was looking at her with a softness of persuasion that sat so oddly on his mischievous monkey-face that in spite of herself, with quivering lips, she smiled.

“You’re very good, Charles Rex,” she said.  “I wonder how much longer you will manage to keep it up.”

He bowed low.  “Just as long as I have your exemplary example before me,” he said.  “Who knows?  We may both fling our caps over the windmill before we have done.”

She shook her head, made as if she would enter the room, but paused.  “You will take care of Columbus?” she said.

“Every care,” he promised.  “If I fail to bring him back to you intact you will never see my face again.”

She had opened the door behind her, but still she paused.  “Charles!”

Her voice held an unutterable appeal.  A grin of sheer derision gleamed for a second in his eyes and vanished.  “They ring up from the Court every day, Juliette.  Presumably he gets the news by that channel.  He has not troubled to obtain it in any other way.”

“How could he?” Juliet said, but her face was paler than before; it had a grey look.  “He is busy with his work all day long.  What time has he for—­other things?”

“Exactly, ma cherie!  One would not expect it of him.  Duty first—­pleasure afterwards, is doubtless his motto.  Very worthy—­and very appropriate, for one of his profession.  Unquestionably, it will become yours also—­in time.”

A faint, sad smile crossed Juliet’s face.  She made no response, and in a moment Saltash bent and swept up Columbus under his arm.

“Adieu, sister of mercy!” he said lightly.  “I leave you to your dreams.”

He went away along the gallery, and she entered the room and shut herself in.

For a second or two she stood quite motionless in the great luxurious apartment.  Then slowly she went forward to the wide-flung window, and stood there, gazing blankly forth over the distant fir-clad park.  He had said that he would see her again.  It seemed so long ago.  And all through this difficult time of strain and anxiety he had done nothing—­nothing.  She did not realize until that moment how much she had counted upon the memory of those last words of his.

Ah well!  Perhaps—­as Charles Rex hinted—­it was better.  Better to end it all thus, that midsummer madness of theirs that had already endured too long!  They had lived such widely sundered lives.  How could they ever have hoped ultimately to bridge the gulf between?

Charles was right.  His shrewd perception realized that dwelling as they did in separate spheres they were bound to be fundamentally strangers to one another.  Surely Dick himself had foreseen it long since down on that golden shore when first he had sought to dissuade her from going to the Court!