Wingarde stooped over her, supporting her; but he found nothing to say to her.  He briefly ordered Archie to fetch some water, and made request to his hostess, almost equally brief, that their car might be called in readiness for departure.  But his manner was wholly free from agitation.

“My wife will recover better at home,” he said, and the lady of the house went away with a good deal of tact to give the order herself.

Left alone with him, Nina still clung to her husband; but she grew rapidly calmer in his quiet hold.  After a moment he spoke to her.

“I wonder how you knew,” he said.

Nina leant her head against him like an exhausted child.

“I saw it coming,” she said.  “It was in his eyes—­mad hatred.  I knew he was going to—­to kill you if he could.”

She did not want to meet his eyes, but he gently compelled her.

“And so you saved my life,” he said in a quiet tone.

“I had to,” she said faintly.

Archie here reappeared with a glass of water.

“The fellow is in a fit,” he reported.  “They are taking him away.  Jove, Wingarde!  You ought to be a dead man.  If Nina hadn’t spoilt that shot—­”

Nina was shuddering, and he broke off.

“You’d better give up cornering gold fields,” he said lightly.  “It seems he was nearly ruined over your last coup.  You may do that sort of thing once too often, don’t you know.  I shouldn’t chance another throw.”

Nina stood up shakily and looked at her husband.

“If you only would give it up!” she said, with trembling vehemence.  “I—­I hate money!”

Wingarde made no response; but Archie instantly took her up.

“You only hate money for what it can’t buy,” he said.  “You probably expect too much from it.  Don’t blame money for that.”

Nina uttered a tremulous laugh that sounded strangely passionate.

“You’re quite right,” she said.  “Money’s not everything.  I have weighed it in the balance and found it wanting.”

“Yes,” Wingarde said in a peculiar tone.  “And so have I.”

XII

AFTERWARDS—­LOVE

An overwhelming shyness possessed Nina that night.  She dined alone with her husband, and found his silences even more oppressive than usual.  Yet, when she rose from the table, an urgent desire to keep him within call impelled her to pause.

“Shall you be late to-night?” she asked him, stopping nervously before him, as he stood by the open door.

“I am not going out to-night,” he responded gravely.”

“Oh!” Nina hesitated still.  She was trembling slightly.  “Then—­I shall see you again?” she said.

He bent his head.

“I shall be with you in ten minutes,” he replied.

And she passed out quickly.

The night was still and hot.  She went into her own little sitting-room and straight to the open window.  Her heart was beating very fast as she stood and looked across the quiet square.  The roar of London hummed busily from afar.  She heard it as one hears the rushing of unseen water among the hills.