Snatches of Vance’s warnings and dark suspicions crossed Sidney’s mind.

“I will do most of the task this morning, but if you could from time to time help him . . . chew and swallow just a little of his breakfast . . . It would be a good beginning . . .”

Sidney nodded and tried to look confident.

“I know you’re not squeamish,” she proceeded. “I know too you have been hurt and you will be able to understand others who have been badly damaged also.”

She stood up then and he followed her up the steps.

“You need not go so slow,” he spoke directly behind her. “My condition is not that bad.”

“Just the same, we won’t hurry, Sidney. We have no fixed schedule in this house.”

A flood of orange sunlight rushed upon them as they reached the upstairs landing. The door to Gareth’s room was wide open, but a curtain of heavy silk hanging between door and room protected the interior from visibility.

Mrs. Vaisey flung back the curtain and motioned Sidney to go in first.

Gareth was seated in the same chair he had been in the previous day. Special care had been made with his grooming, and he wore a jacket and brand-­new tie. In his right hand he held a fresh-­cut autumn white rose, which it was clear someone had insisted he hold and which he was wanting to get rid of. Mrs. Vaisey took the flower from his fingers and kissed him on the mouth.

“You remember our good friend Sidney, dear.”

Gareth moved his head in assent.

A man of about thirty entered the room now with a heavy tray which he deposited on the table beside Gareth, who looked at the man fixedly and then gave him what appeared to be an imperious look of contemptuous dismissal. The servant left without a word.

Irene and Sidney had seated themselves, and had anyone passed through the hall and looked beyond the fluttering curtain he would have thought they were waiting for a service to commence.

“I am sure, Gareth,” Mrs. Vaisey broke the silence, “that you are going to be very happy with Sidney. I can feel it, dearest.”

Gareth turned his large, luminous eyes on the new “companion.”

“Garey,” Sidney began, his voice almost bass with strain, “though I have been gone some considerable time and there have been changes in both our lives . . .” He broke off in an excess of emotion. “I will do my best for you, you know that,” he managed to finish.

Gareth turned away from both his visitors.

“Shall we begin your breakfast,” Mrs. Vaisey’s voice also shook, and her eyes rested on the carpet and not on her son. Looking up she saw Gareth shaking his head angrily, and his left hand suddenly disarranged his perfectly tied cravat.