"No; thank you, Sis. But I should like——"
"What? Tell me."
"To see—Audrey."
The three words gave her a shock, but they told her nothing new.
"You shall. I'll send for her first thing in the morning."
He turned round with his face away from her, and settled himself again to sleep. And Katherine watched. He would be Audrey's to-morrow. He was hers at least for that one night.
No—never, never again. To-morrow had come, and the image of Audrey was between them. It always had been there.
Was it better so?
The next day Audrey had to be found. Ted went to Chelsea Gardens early in the morning, supposing her to be there. The house was shut up, and the caretaker had mislaid her address. He went back to Devon Street. Katherine and Ted were in despair; Vincent alone was equal to the emergency. His mind was on the alert—it had grasped all the necessary details. He gave them Dean Craven's address, and told Ted to wire to Oxford for Audrey's. That was how Audrey never got the telegram till one o'clock.
That morning the doctor pronounced Vincent decidedly better. The change, he said, was something miraculous. He took Katherine out of the room to tell her so.