rom his pocket, and held it before her eyes. It had been a
gift from her to the man who was now her husband in the early days of
their acquaintance, before the thought of marriage had risen between
them. With all the valuables he had pawned and lost and thrown away,
strange that this worthless gift of the girl whose life he had ruined
should have stuck to him; stranger still that after all those years she
should be able to recognise it beyond possibility of doubt! He held it
towards the basin of water as though to rinse it, but she took it from
him and laid it aside.

"Let it be!" she said. "I shall know what to do with the knife."

The doctor's outside patients might be crying aloud for him; it was
more than noontide, and he should long have been about his work; the
patient in the private ward should have had Sister Marion at his side;
but the pair lingered in the little red-and-white tiled ward kitchen,
bathed in the warm rays of the golden afternoon sun. The dressing of
the wounds was a long business, and to the ministering woman heavenly
sweet.

Over the cut upon his forehead the short, dark hair had to be combed.
By altering the place of parting this was easily done. And Sister
Marion, looking down upon him to see the effect, thrilled to find eyes,
usually cold and preoccupied, fixed in a rapture of adoration upon her
face.

"No woman in the world has such a tender touch as you," he said. "My
mother used to kiss my hurts to make them well. Will you do that too
for me?"

Then the woman with murder in her heart stooped and kissed him tenderly
as a mother upon his brow, knelt for an instant before him, and kissed
his hand.

"Good-bye," she said, "Good-bye;" and without another word left him and
went upon her business to the private ward.

* * * * *

The recognising eyes were upon her as she opened the door. "I did not
have much trouble to find you, this time," the man said. "I didn't even
come here of my own accord. I don't know anything about it, except that
I feel infernally bad. Can't you give me something, Marion?"

"I will give you something presently," she said. "I wish to talk to you
a little first."

"Not until you've untied my hands. What are they tied up for, pray?"

"To keep you from working mischief."

"Have I done anything to that long chap that went out with you? If so
I'll make amends--I'll make any amends in my power."

"You shall make amends. D