The latter carried him with little effort into the cool library and laid him down on a couch.  Mrs. Rossiter followed, full of exclamations, vain questions, and suggestions of inapplicable or unsuitable remedies.  Rossiter paid little heed to her, and proceeded to remove David’s collar and tie and open his shirt front in order to place a hand over the heart.  Suddenly he looked up and round on his wife, and said with a peremptoriness which admitted of no questioning:  “Go and see that one of the spare bedrooms is got ready, a fire lit, and so on.  Get this done quickly, and meantime leave him to me.  I have got restoratives here close at hand.”

Mrs. Rossiter awed into silence summoned the housemaid and parlour-maid and hindered them as much as possible in the task of getting a room ready.

Meantime the sub-conscious David sighed a great deal and presently wept a great deal in convulsive sobs, and then opened his eyes and saw the tourbillon of whirling elements settling down into Rossiter’s grave, handsome face—­yes, but a gravity somehow interpenetrated by love, a love not ashamed to show itself—­bending over him with great concern.  The secret had been guessed, was known; and as they held each other with their eyes as though the world were well lost in this discovery, their lips met in one kiss, and for a minute Vivie’s arms were round Michael’s neck, for just one unforgettable moment, a moment she felt she would cheerfully have died to have lived through.

They were soon unlaced, for sharp little high-heeled footsteps on the tiled passage and the clinketing of trinkets announced the return of Mrs. Rossiter.

Vivie became David once more, but left behind her the glad tears of relief that were coursing down David’s cheeks.

Mrs. Rossiter thought this was a very odd way for a barrister to celebrate his winning a great case at the criminal courts, and turned away in delicacy from the spectacle of a dishevelled and obviously lachrymose young man with one arm dangling and the other thrown negligently over the back of the leather couch.  “Mr. Williams’s room is ready, Michael,” she said primly.  “All right, dear; thank you.  I will help Williams up to bed and have his luggage sent up.  He will be quite well to-morrow if he can get to sleep.  You needn’t bother any more, dearie.  Go into the drawing-room and I will join you there presently.”

Rossiter gave the rather shuddery, shivery, teeth-clacking David an arm till he saw him into the bedroom and resting on the bedroom sofa.  Then he drew up a chair and said in low but distinct tones:—­

“Look here.  I know you want to make me an explanation.  Well!  It can wait.  A little more of this strain and you’ll be having brain fever.  Sleep if you can, and eat all the breakfast Linda sends you up in the morning.  Get up at eleven to-morrow and if you are fit then to drive out in my motor, return to your chambers.  When you have calmed down to a normal pulse, write to me all you want to say.  No one shall read it but me ...  I’ll burn it afterwards or send it back to you under seal.  But at the present time, it may be easier for both of us if our communications are only written and not spoken.  We have both been tried rather high; and both of us are human, however high-principled.  If you write, register the letter....  Good-night...”