One day, after three weeks of strenuous nursing, she quitted Guy’s room very suddenly to battle with a ghastly feeling of faintness which threatened to overwhelm her.  Kieff, who had been present with Guy, followed her almost immediately to her own room, and found her with a deathly face groping against the wall as one stricken blind.

He took her firmly by the shoulders and forced her down over the back of a chair, holding her so with somewhat callous strength of purpose, till with a half-hysterical gasp she begged him to set her free.  The colour had returned to her face when she stood up, but those few moments of weakness had bereft her of her self-control.  She could not restrain her tears.

Kieff showed no emotion of any sort.  With professional calm, he put her down upon the bed, and stood over her, feeling her pulse.

“You want sleep,” he said.

She turned her face away from him, ashamed of the weakness she could not hide.  “Yes, I know.  But I can’t sleep.  I’m always listening.  I can’t help it.  My brain feels wound up.  Sometimes—­sometimes it feels as if it hurts me to shut my eyes.”

“There’s a remedy for that,” said Kieff, and his hand went to his pocket.

She looked at him startled.  “Oh, not that!  Not that!  I couldn’t.  It would be wrong.”

“Not if I advise it,” said Kieff, with a self-assurance that seemed to knock aside her resistance as of no account.

She knew she ought to have resisted further, but somehow she could not.  His very impassivity served to make opposition impossible.  It came to her that the inevitable was upon her, and whatever she said would make no difference.  Moreover, she was too tired greatly to care.

She uttered a little cry when a few seconds later she felt the needle pierce her flesh, but she submitted without a struggle.  After all, what did it matter for once?  And she needed rest so much.

With a sigh she surrendered herself, and was amazed at the swift relief that came to her.  It was like the rolling away of an immense weight, and immediately she seemed to float upwards, upwards, like a soaring bird.

Kieff remained by her side, but his presence did not trouble her.  She was possessed by an ecstasy so marvellous that she had no room for any other emotion; She was as one borne on wings, ascending, ever ascending, through an atmosphere of transcendent gold.

Once he touched her forehead, and bringing his hand slowly downwards compelled her to close her eyes.  A brief darkness came upon her, and she uttered a muffled protest.  But when he lifted his hand again, her eyes did not open.  The physical had fallen from her, material things had ceased to matter.  She was free—­free as the ether through which she floated.  She was mounting upwards, upwards, upwards, through celestial morning to her castle at the top of the world.  And the magic—­the magic that beat in her veins—­was the very