you were all thinking of him, and do
such a tremendous piece of work. I want you to understand. He's a
brilliant surgeon; it didn't seem right that he should be lost to himself
and the profession. And the best of it is, he isn't going to be. The San
is going to stand by him; every doctor on the staff is willing to help
him. As soon as Doctor Jefferson is back, Doctor Brainard is to stop work
until--until he's fit again. Isn't that splendid! Oh, I could sing! I keep
saying over those great Hebrew words of comfort, 'Weeping may tarry
through the night, but joy cometh in the morning.'"

"Yes," said Peter, dully. "I'm glad joy has come for you. May I wish you
and Doctor Brainard all success and happiness?"

Sheila's eyes looked into Peter's with a sudden intensity. "You may--but
not together. Have you actually been thinking that I loved Doctor
Brainard?" A hint of the old bitterness crept into her voice. "I can pity
a man like that, but love him--love weakness and selfishness--and the
willingness to betray a woman's honor--no! Three years ago he killed
whatever personal feeling I might have had for him, and he made me hate
all men."

"And you're still hating them?" Peter held fast to his rising hopes while
he hung eagerly on her answer.

"No. Ever since a fine, strong, unselfish man came into my life it has set
me loving all mankind so scandalously that I'm afraid the only way to make
me respectable is--for some man to marry me." Leerie's arms went out to
Peter in complete surrender. "Oh, Peter--Peter--it's morning!"

But it was almost noon before Peter began to think intelligently again,
and then he remembered something, something that ought to be done. "I
think," he said, "I think we ought to go out and tell Hennessy and the
swans; we sort of owe it to them."

And it all ended even as Peter had prophesied in his yarn by Doctor
Dempsy's bedside.

Chapter V

THE LAST OF THE SURGICAL

Things have a way of beginning casually, so casually that you think they
are bound to spin themselves out into airy nothings. The first inkling you
have to the contrary is that headlong plunge into one of the big moments
of your life, perhaps the biggest. But you never cease to wonder at the
innocent, inconsequential way it began. These are the moments when you can
picture Fate, sitting like an omnipotent operator before some giant
switchboard, playing with signals and the like. I dare say he grins like a
mischievous little b