very chance that he may live."

"All the time," she answered, fervently, "I am praying that he may.
If he treated my mother badly, I am sure that he has suffered. I
can't quite forget, either," she went on, "although that seems
selfish, that when I come out of the hospital, even if all goes
well, I may still be homeless."

He leaned over her.

"Ruth," he exclaimed, "what do you mean?"

"You know," she answered, simply. "You must know."

His heart began to beat more quickly. He turned his head but she was
looking away. He could see only the curve of her long eyelashes. It
seemed to him strange then that he had never noticed the likeness to
Sabatini before. Her mouth, her forehead, the carriage of her head,
were all his. He leaned towards her. There was something stirring in
his heart then, something throbbing there, which seemed to bring
with it a cloud of new and bewildering emotions. The whole world was
slipping away. Something strange had come into the room.

"Ruth," he whispered, "will you look at me for a moment?"

She kept her head turned away.

"Don't!" she pleaded. "Don't talk to me just now. I can't bear it,
Arnold."

"But I have something to say to you," he persisted. "I have
something new, something I must say, something that has just come to
me. You must listen, Ruth."

She held out her hand feverishly.

"Please, Arnold," she begged, "I don't want to hear--anything. I
know how kind you are and how generous. Just now--I think it is the
heat--be still, please. I can't bear anything."

Her fingers clutched his and yet kept him away. Every moment he was
more confident of this thing which had come to him. A strange
longing was filling his heart. The old days when he had kissed her
carelessly upon the forehead seemed far enough away. Then, in that
brief period of silence which seemed to him too wonderful to break,
there came a little tap at the door. They both turned their heads.

"Come in," Arnold invited.

There was a moment's hesitation. Then the door was opened. Fenella
entered. Arnold sprang to his feet.

"Mrs. Weatherley!" he exclaimed.

She smiled at him with all her old insolent grace.

"Since when?" she demanded. "Fenella, if you please."

She was more simply dressed than usual, in a thin, black gown and
black picture hat, and there were shadows under her eyes. No one
could look at her and fail to know that she was suffering. She came
across to Ruth.

"My brother is the dearest th