"
"A short one, no doubt," said Mrs. Adair.
"Well, it's this way. If there's a chance that I may recover my sight,
it would be better that I should seize it at once. Time means a good
deal in these cases."
"Then there is a chance?" cried Ethne.
"I am going to see a specialist here to-morrow," Durrance answered.
"And, of course, there's the oculist at Wiesbaden. But it may not be
necessary to go so far. I expect that I shall be able to stay at
Guessens and come up to London when it is necessary. Thank you very
much, Mrs. Adair. It is a good plan." And he added slowly, "From my
point of view there could be no better."
Ethne watched Durrance drive away with his servant to his old rooms in
St. James's Street, and stood by the window after he had gone, in much
the same attitude and absorption as that which had characterised her
before he had come. Outside in the street the carriages were now coming
back from the park, and there was just one other change. Ethne's
apprehensions had taken a more definite shape.
She believed that suspicion was quieted in Durrance for to-day, at all
events. She had not heard his conversation with Calder in Cairo. She did
not know that he believed there was no cure which could restore him to
sight.
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