o intently was his mind set on it now that he did not
seem annoyed by Raven's supporting him. Tira hurried on in advance, and
when they entered she was putting wood into the stove and opening
drafts, to start up the neglected fire. Raven led him to the chair by
the hearth, knelt, without paying any attention to his muttered
remonstrance, and, with much difficulty of frequent easements, got off
the boot and the soaked stocking. It was an ugly cut. Tenney, glancing
down at it, groaned and looked away, and Tira brought a pillow and
tucked it behind his head. Raven, glancing up at him, saw he was white
and sick and Tira said:

"He never can stan' the sight o' blood."

Evidently the irony of it did not strike her at all, but Raven wrinkled
his brows over it. He sent her here and there, for water to wash the
wound and for clean cloth. He rolled a bandage and put it on deftly
while Tenney stared.

"Now," said he, coming to his feet, "you'd better telephone the doctor.
This is all I know."

Tira went to the telephone in the next room and Raven cleared away the
confusion he had made and again Tenney watched him. At intervals he
looked down at his bandaged foot as if he pitied it. Tira, having given
her message, came back and reported that the doctor would be there
shortly.

"Then," said Raven, "I'll be off. Telephone if you need anything.
Perhaps I'd better come over anyway. He'll have to be got to bed. I'll
call you up."

He felt a sudden easement of the strain between himself and Tira. Tenney
himself, through his hurt, had cleared the way. Their intercourse, void
of secrecy, was suddenly commonplace; at the moment there was nothing in
it to light a flash of feeling. Tenney did not look at him. Then Raven,
in a sudden mounting of desire to show Tira how sorry he was for her,
said to her impetuously:

"I hate to leave you alone."

And again she surprised him as she had the night before in implicit
acceptance of her new faith, something as tangible as divine. She spoke
in a perfect simplicity.

"I ain't alone," she said.

Tenney had turned his head, to listen.

"We ain't alone, Isr'el, be we?" she challenged breathlessly.

"I dunno what you're talkin' about," said Tenney uneasily, and she
laughed.

It was, Raven wonderingly thought, a light-hearted laugh, as if she had
no longer anything to bear.

"Why," said she, "same as I told you. We ain't alone a minute o' the
time, if we don't feel to be. He's with us, t