Not even to himself could he continue that pleasant fiction of the strong man with feelings too deep for utterance.

Still, there were certain delicacies: if his love was dead he must do his best to bury it decently--anyhow, anywhere, out of his sight and hers.
He noticed now that, as he carried her from one room to the other, she turned her face from his, as she had turned it from the light.
And she was growing stronger.
One afternoon she heard the doctor talking to Nevill in the passage.

He uttered the word "change." "Shall I send her to Bournemouth ?" said Nevill.
"Yes, yes.

Good-morning.

Or, better still, take her yourself to the Riviera," sang out the doctor.
The door closed behind the eminent man, and Tyson went out immediately afterwards.
He came home late that night, and she did not see him till the afternoon of the following day, when he turned into the dining-room on his way out of the house.