She bent down and kissed him passionately.

“I must have those bandages off, dearest,” she whispered.  “I suppose to-morrow I’d better return them to Mrs. Heath.”

He muttered:  “She said she always kept linen for bandages in the shop because they so often cut themselves.  Now, I used to think in my innocence that butchers never cut themselves.”

Very gently and intently Rachel unfastened two safety-pins that were hidden in Louis’ untidy hair.  Then she began to unwind a long strip of linen.  It stuck to a portion of the cheek close to the ear.  Louis winced.  The inner folds of the linen were discoloured.  Rachel had a glimpse of a wound....

“Go on!” Louis urged.  “Get at it, child!”

“No,” she said.  “I think I shall leave it just as it is for the doctor to deal with.  Shall you mind if I leave you for a minute?  I must get some warm water and things ready against the doctor comes.”

He retorted facetiously:  “Oh!  Do what you like!  Work your will on me....  Doctor!  Any one ’ud think I was badly injured.  Why, you cuckoo, it’s only skin wounds!”

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

“Depends what you call hurt.  It ain’t a picnic.”

“I think you’re awfully brave,” she said simply.

At the door she stopped and gazed at him, undecided.

“Louis,” she said in a motherly tone, “I should like you to go to bed.  I really should.  You ought to, I’m sure.”

“Well, I shan’t,” he replied.

“But please!  To please me!  You can get up again.”

“Oh, go to blazes!” he cried resentfully.  “What in thunder should I go to bed for, I should like to know?  Have a little sense, do!” He shut his eyes.

He had never till then spoken to her so roughly.

“Very well,” she agreed, with soothing acquiescence.  His outburst had not irritated her in the slightest degree.

In the kitchen, as she bent over the kettle and the fire, each object was surrounded by a sort of halo, like the moon in damp weather.  She brushed her hand across her eyes, contemptuous of herself.  Then she ran lightly upstairs and searched out an old linen garment and tore the seams of it apart.  She crept back to the parlour and peeped in.  Louis had not moved on the sofa.  His eyes were still closed.  After a few seconds, he said, without stirring—­

“I’ve not yet passed away.  I can see you.”

She responded with a little laugh, somewhat forced.

After an insupportable delay Mrs. Tams reappeared, out of breath.  Dr. Yardley had just gone out, but he was expected back very soon and would then be sent down instantly.

Mrs. Tams, quite forgetful of etiquette, followed Rachel, unasked, into the parlour.

“What?” said Louis loudly.  “Two of you!  Isn’t one enough?”

Mrs. Tams vanished.

“Heath took charge of the bikes,” Louis murmured, as if to the ceiling.