"We must send him away!" she said imperiously. "We must! A voyage, a good doctor, a dry climate, would save him, of course they would! Why, there is nothing necessarily fatal now in phthisis! Nothing! It is absurd to talk as though there were."
Again French looked at her in silence. But as she had lost colour, he had gained it. His face, which the East End had already stamped, had grown rosy, his eyes sparkled.
"Oh, do say something! Tell me what you suggest?" cried Daphne.
"Do you really wish me to tell you what I suggest?"
Daphne waited, her eyes first imploring, then beginning to shrink. He bent forward and touched her on the arm.
"Go, Mrs. Barnes, and ask your husband's forgiveness! What will come of it I do not know. But you, at least, will have done something to set yourself right--with God."
The Christian and the priest had spoken; the low voice in its intensity had seemed to ring through the quiet sun-flooded room. Daphne rose, trembling with resentment and antagonism.
"It is you, then, Mr. French, who make it impossible for me to discuss--to help. I shall have to see if I can find some other means of carrying out my purpose."
There was a voice outside. Daphne turned.
French ran to the glass door that opened on the veranda, and trying for an ordinary tone, waved somebody back who was approaching from without. Elsie came quickly round the corner of the house, calling to the new-comer.
But Daphne saw who it was and took her own course. She, too, went to the window, and, passing French, she stepped into the veranda.
A man hurried through the dusk. There was an exclamation, a silence. By this time French was on the lawn, his wife's quivering hand in his. Daphne retreated slowly into the study and Roger Barnes followed her.
"Leave them alone," said French, and putting an arm round his wife he led her resolutely away, out of sound and sight.
Barnes stood silent, breathing heavily and leaning on the back of a chair. The western light from a side window struck full on him. But Daphne, the wave of excitement spent, was not looking at him. She had fallen upon a sofa, her face was in her hands.
"What do you want with me?" said Roger at last. Then, in a sudden heat, "By God, I never wished to see you again!"