The tide receded. The night began to pass. There came a faint greyness before the window. The breeze freshened.
And very suddenly the breathing to which Avery had listened all the night paused, ceased for a second or two, then broke into the sharp sigh of one awaking from sleep.
She rose quickly, and the nurse looked up. Jeanie's eyes dark, unearthly, unafraid, were opened wide.
She gazed at Avery for a moment as if slightly puzzled. Then, in a faint whisper: "Has Piers said good-night?" she asked.
"No, darling. But he is waiting to. I will call him," Avery said.
"Quickly!" whispered the nurse, as she passed her.
Swiftly, noiselessly, Avery went to her own room. But some premonition of her coming must have reached him; for he met her on the threshold.
His eyes questioned hers for a moment, and then together they turned back to Jeanie's room. No words passed between them. None were needed.
Jeanie's face was turned towards the door. Her eyes looked beyond Avery and smiled a welcome to Piers. He came to her, knelt beside her.
"Dear Sir Galahad!" she said.