“Do you think,” he said, breathing deeply, “that I would suffer that accursed fiend to drag my wife—­my wife—­down into that infernal slough?”

She was trembling from head to foot; her knees doubled under her, but he held her up.  The barely repressed violence of his speech was perceptible in his hold also.  She had no strength to meet it.

“But what of Guy?” she whispered voicelessly.  “He will die!”

“Guy!” he said, and in the word there was a bitterness indescribable.  “Is be to be weighed in the balance against you?”

She was powerless to reason with him, and perhaps it was as well for her that this was so, for he was in no mood to endure opposition.  His wrath seemed to beat about her like a storm-blast.  But yet he held her up, and after a moment, seeing her weakness, he softened somewhat.

“There!  Lie down again!” he said, and lowered her to the bed.  “I’ll see to Guy.  Only remember,” he stooped over her, and to her strained senses he loomed gigantic, “if you ever touch that stuff again, my faith in you will be gone.  And where there is no trust, you can’t expect—­honour.”

The words seemed to pierce her, but he straightened himself the moment after and turned to go.

She covered her face with her hands as the door closed upon him.  She felt as if she had entered upon a new era, indeed, and she feared with a dread unspeakable to look upon the path which lay before her.

CHAPTER XI

INTO BATTLE

When Sylvia saw Guy again, he greeted her with an odd expression in his dark eyes, half-humorous, half-speculative.  He was lying propped on pillows by the open window, a cigarette and a box of matches by his side.

“Hullo, Sylvia!” he said.  “You can come in.  The big baas has set his house in order and gone out.”

The early morning sunshine was streaming across his bed.  She thought he looked wonderfully better, and marvelled at the change.

He smiled at her as she drew near.  “Yes, I’ve been washed and fed and generally made respectable.  Thank goodness that brute Kieff has gone anyway!  I couldn’t have endured him much longer.  What was the grand offence?  Did he make love to you or what?”

“Make love to me!  Of course not!” Sylvia flushed indignantly at the suggestion.

Guy laughed; he seemed in excellent spirits.  “He’d better not, what?  But the big baas was very angry with him, I can tell you.  And I can’t think it was on my account.  I’m inoffensive enough, heavens knows.”

He reached up a hand as she stood beside him, and took and held hers.

“You’re a dear girl, Sylvia,” he said.  “Just the very sight of you does me good.  You’re not sorry Kieff has gone?”

“Sorry!  No!” She looked down at him with doubt in her eyes.  “Only—­we owe him a good deal, remember.  He saved your life.”