"If only it's nothing worse! I'm so afraid!"
"No. It hasn't come on again; though that may happen any time when he's so nearly pegged. Must confess, I blame myself for urging him to come to-night. But he said he had solved the big problem, and I thought the change would do him good—relax his mind, you know. Egregious mistake, I fear. I've urged him to go; but he insists upon sticking it out."
"But you're certain that he—has—done nothing as yet?"
"No, indeed, I assure you! This over-fatigue—I'm not even certain whether the craving is on him or not…. You'll pardon me, Miss Genevieve—but do you realize how hard you have made it for him, cutting him off from all help in his desperate struggle?"
"Then he is fighting all alone?" she exclaimed.
"Yes. He won't allow even me to jolly him up now. He's given me the cold shoulder. Said the inference to be drawn from your conditions was that he should have no help whatever."
"Isn't that brave!—isn't that just like him!" cried the girl, her eyes sparkling and cheeks aglow. "He will win! I feel sure he'll win!"
Lord James looked down at the table, and asked in rather an odd and hesitating tone: "We must hope it. But—if he does win—what then?"
Blake came slowly into the room through the doorway behind them, his head downbent as if he were pondering a problem.
Unaware of the newcomer, Genevieve looked regretfully into the troubled face of her companion, and answered him with absolute candor. "Dear friend, need I repeat? I am very fond of you, and I esteem you very highly. Yet if he succeeds, I must say 'no' to you."