"If I might advise you," said Hilary, "I would get back into bed for a
few minutes. You seem a little chilly."

Mr. Stone, who was indeed shaking so that he could hardly stand, allowed
Hilary to assist him into bed and tuck the blankets round him.

"I must be at work by ten o'clock," he said.

Hilary, who was also shivering, hastened to Bianca's room. She was just
coming down, and exclaimed at seeing him all wet. When he had told her
of the episode she touched his shoulder.

"What about you?"

"A hot bath and drink will set me right. You'd better go to him."

He turned towards the bathroom, where Miranda stood, lifting a white
foot. Compressing her lips, Bianca ran downstairs. Startled by his
tale, she would have taken his wet body in her arms; if the ghosts of
innumerable moments had not stood between. So this moment passed too,
and itself became a ghost.

Mr. Stone, greatly to his disgust, had not succeeded in resuming work at
ten o'clock. Failing simply because he could not stand on his legs, he
had announced his intention of waiting until half-past three, when he
should get up, in preparation for the coming of the little girl.
Having refused to see a doctor, or have his temperature taken, it was
impossible to tell precisely what degree of fever he was in. In his
cheeks, just visible over the blankets, there was more colour than
there should have been; and his eyes, fixed on the ceiling, shone with