s case to some
young, vigorous, ambitious physician--some specialist--"

"Don't!" she whispered almost fiercely, "don't do that, Dr. Atwood! I
want him, please! I--you helped me to discover him, you see. And his
malady is to be my specialty. Please, do you mind if I keep him all to
myself and study him?"

"But you refused, child."

"I didn't mean to. I--I didn't exactly see how I was to study him. But I
must study him! Oh, I _must_! There will surely be some way. Please let
me. You discovered him, I admit, but I will promise you faithfully to
devote my entire life to studying him, as the great Lamour devoted his
life for forty years to his single patient."

"But Dr. Lamour married his patient," said the Tracer mildly.

"He--I--that need not be necessary--"

"But if it should prove necessary?"

"I--you--"

"Answer me, child."

She stared across at Carden, biting her red lips. He turned pink
promptly and fidgeted.

"He _has_ got it!" she whispered excitedly. "Oh, _do_ you mind if I take
him for mine? I am perfectly wild to begin on him!"

"You have not yet answered my question," said the old gentleman gravely.
"Do you lack the courage to marry him if it becomes necessary to do so
in order to devote your entire life to studying him?"

"Oh--it _cannot_ be necessary--"

"You lack the courage."

She was silent.

"Braver things have been done by those of your profession who have gone
among lepers," said the old gentleman sadly.

She flushed up instantly; her eyes sparkled; her head proudly high,
delicate nostrils dilated.

"I am not afraid!" she said. "If it ever becomes necessary, I _can_ show
courage and devotion, as well as those of my profession who minister to
the lepers of Molokai! Yes; I do promise you to marry him if I cannot
otherwise study him. And I promise you solemnly to devote my entire life
to observing his symptoms and searching for proper means to combat them.
My one ambition in life is personally to observe and study a case of
Lamour's Disease, and to give my entire life to investigating its
origin, its course, and its cure."

The old gentleman rose, bowing with that quaintly obsolete courtesy
which was in vogue in his youth.

"I am contented to leave him exclusively to you, Dr. Hollis. And I wish
you happiness in your life's work--and success in your cure of this
unhappy young man."

Hat in hand, he bowed again as he tottered past her, muttering and
smiling to himself and shaking