Of course Rupert has not been well--he has never been well since that dreadful death of Mr.
Carfax, and certainly since that day when you were here I think that he's been worse--strange, utterly unlike himself, sleeping badly, eating nothing.

Poor, poor Rupert, I would do anything for him, for them both, but I am so utterly, utterly useless, What can I do ?" she finally appealed to him.
"You said once," he answered her slowly, "that I could help you.

If you still feel that, tell me, and I will do anything, anything.

You know that I will do anything." They came together, in that terrible room, like two children out of the dark.

He suddenly caught her hand and she let him hold it.