"I'll send the nurse to you," he said as he went towards the door.
"Send Mumples, please, Grantley."
Mrs. Mumple had done all the harm she could. "All right," he replied. "Try to sleep. Good-night."
He shut the door behind him before her answer came.
On the stairs he met Mrs. Mumple. The fat woman shrank out of his path, but he bade her good-night not unkindly, although absently; she needed no bidding to send her to Sibylla's room. He found Jeremy still in the study, still wide awake.
"Oh, go home to bed, old fellow!" he exclaimed irritably, but affectionately too. "What good can you do sitting up here all night?"
"Yes, I suppose I may as well go—it's half-past two. I'll go out by the garden." He opened the window which led on to the lawn. The fresh night air came in. "That's good!" sniffed Jeremy.
Grantley stepped into the garden with him, and lit a cigarette.
"But is it all right, Grantley? Is Sibylla reasonable now?"
"All right? Reasonable?" Grantley's innermost thoughts had been far away.