Max was looking so exceedingly grave by this time that I longed to change the subject.  I would say a word in defence of Gladys when we were alone, he and I. It would be worse than useless to speak before Miss Darrell.  She would twist my words before my face.  I never said a word in Gladys’s behalf that she did not make me repent it.

The next moment, however, she had started on a different tack.

‘Oh, do you know, Mr. Cunliffe,’ she said carelessly, as she crossed the hearth-rug to ring the bell, ‘we have heard again from Captain Hamilton?’

Max raised his head quickly.  ’Indeed!  I hope he is quite well.  By the bye, I remember you told me he had a touch of fever; but I trust he has got the better of that.’

‘We hope so,’ in a very impressive tone; ’but it was a sharp attack, and no doubt home-sickness and worry of mind accelerated the mischief.  Poor Claude!  I fear he has suffered much; not that he says so himself:  he is far too proud to complain.  But he is likely to come home on sick-leave; next mail will settle the question, but I believe we may expect him about the end of July.’

‘Indeed!  That is good news for all of you’; but the poker that Max had taken up fell with a little crash among the fire-irons.  Miss Darrell gave a faint scream, and then laughed at her foolish nervousness.

‘It was very clumsy on my part,’ stammered Max.  Could it be my fancy, or had he turned suddenly pale, as though something had startled him too?

‘Oh no, it was only my poor nerves,’ replied Miss Darrell, with her brightest smile.  ’What was I saying?  Oh yes, I remember now,—­about Claude:  he wrote to Gladys to ask if he might come, and she said yes.  Ah, here comes tea, and I believe I heard Giles’s ring at the bell.’

I cannot tell which of the two revealed it to me,—­whether it was the sudden pallor on Max’s face, or the curious watchful look that I detected in Miss Darrell’s eyes:  it was only there for a moment, but it reminded me of the look with which a cat eyes the mouse she has just drawn within her claws.  I saw it all then with a quick flash of intuition.  I had partly guessed it before, but now I was sure of it.

My poor Max, so brave and cheery and patient!  But she should not torment him any longer in my presence.  If he had to suffer,—­and the cause of that suffering was still a mystery to me,—­she should not spy out his weakness.  He had turned his face aside with a quick look of pain as he spoke, and the next moment I had mounted the breach and was begging Miss Darrell to assist me in the case of a poor family,—­old hospital acquaintances of mine, who were emigrating to New Zealand.

My importunity seemed to surprise her.  My sudden loquacity was an interruption; but I would not be repressed or silenced.  I took the chair beside her, and made her look at me.  I fixed her wandering attention and pressed her until she grew irritable with impatience.  I saw Max was recovering himself:  by and by he gave a forced laugh.