he is nothing to you."

"He is all to me--everything to me! Oh, Frances! If you knew, if you
knew!"

"What? If I knew what?" Frances caught her arm in fierce grip, and
shook her savagely.

"Don't--don't--hurt me, Frances!" Nola cringed and shrank away, and
lifted her arms as if to ward a blow.

"What did you mean by that? Tell me--tell me!"

"Oh, the way it came to me, the way it came to me as he carried me in
his arms and sang to me so I wouldn't be afraid!" moaned Nola, her
face hidden in her hands. "I never knew before what it was to care for
anybody that way--I never, never knew before!"

"You can't have this man, nor any share in him, living or dead! I gave
up Major King to you; be satisfied."

"Oh, Major King!"

"Poor shadow that he is in comparison with a man, he'll have to serve
for you. Living or dead, I tell you, this man is mine. Now go!"

Nola was shaking again with sudden gust of weeping. She had sunk to
the floor at the head of the couch, a white heap, her bare arms
clasping her head.

"It breaks my heart to see him die!" she moaned, rocking herself in
her grief like a child.

And child Frances felt her to be in her selfishness, a child never
denied, and careless and unfeeling of the rights of others from this
long indulgence. She doubted Nola's sincerity, even in the face of
such demonstrative evidence. There was no pity for her, and no
softness.

"Get up!" Frances spoke sternly--"and go to your room."

"He must not be allowed to die--he must be saved!" Nola reached out
her hands, standing now on her knees, as if to call back his
struggling soul.

"Belated tears will not save him. Get up--it's time for you to go."

Nola bent forward suddenly, her hair sweeping the wounded man's face,
her lips near his brow. Frances caught her with a sound in her throat
like a growl, and flung her back.

"You'll not kiss him--you'll never kiss him!" she said.

Nola sprang up, not crying now, but hot with sudden anger.

"If you were out of the way he'd love me!"

"Love _you!_ you little cat!"

"Yes, he'd love me--I'd take him away from you like I've taken other
men! He'd love me, I tell you--he'd love _me!_"

Frances looked at her steadily a moment, contempt in her eloquent
face. "If you have no other virtue in you, at least have some respect
for the dying," she said.

"He's not dying, he'll not die!" Nola hotly denied. "He'll live--live
to love me!"

"Go! This room--"

"It's my house; I'll