“Oh, he’s better,” she said, “much better.  But I’m afraid I can’t let you see him now, as he is asleep.  Dr. Wade examined him himself yesterday.  And he was here again this morning.  His opinion is that the spine has been only bruised.  While unconsciousness lasted, it was, of course, difficult to tell.  But the patient became conscious this morning, and Dr. Wade said he was very well pleased with him on the whole.  He thinks we shall not have him very long.  He’s a bright little chap and thoroughly likes his quarters.  His father is a dock labourer.  Everyone knows the Wade Home, and all the patients consider themselves very lucky to be here.  You see, the doctor is such a favourite wherever he goes.”

“I have never met Dr. Wade,” Nina said.  “I suppose he is a great man?”

The matron’s jolly face glowed with enthusiasm.

“He is indeed,” she said—­“a splendid man.  You probably know him by another name.  They say he is a leading physician in the West End.  But we City people know him and love him by his assumed name only.  Why, only lately he cut short his holiday on purpose to be near one of his patients who was dying.  If you could manage to come to-morrow afternoon after four o’clock, no doubt you would see him.  It is visiting-day, and he is always here on Sunday afternoons between three and six in case the visitors like to see him.  I should be delighted to give you some tea.  And you could then see the little boy.”

“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.