are
like the rest of them: you think I'm going to kill him, eh?" His voice was
low and bitter.

She winced, half closing her eyes as if a blow had been aimed at them.
"Oh, don't say that! How horrible it sounds when you--_speak it_."

He could see that she was trembling, and suddenly experienced an odd
feeling of contentment. He had seen it in her eyes once more: the love
that had never faltered although dragged in the dirt, discredited and
betrayed. She still loved him, and he was glad to know it. He could gloat
over it.

"I am not afraid to speak it, as you say," he said curtly. Then he pitied
her. "I'm sorry, Anne. I shouldn't have said it. I think I understand what
you mean. It's good of you to care. But I am going ahead with it, just the
same." His jaw was set in the old, resolute way.

"Do you know what they will say if you--fail?" Her voice was husky.

"Yes, I know. I also know why they finally came to me. They haven't any
hope. They believe that I may--well, at least I will not say _that_, Anne.
Down in their hearts they all hope,--but it isn't the kind of hope that
usually precedes an operation. No one has dared to suggest to me that I
put him out of his misery, but that's what they're expecting,--all of them.
But they are going to be disappointed. I do not owe anything to James
Marraville. He is nothing to me. I do not love him as I loved my
grandfather."

He spoke slowly, with grave deliberation; there was not the slightest
doubt that he intended her to accept this veiled explanation of his
present attitude as a confession that he had taken his grandfather's life.

She was silent. She understood. He went on, more hurriedly:

"I can only say to you, Anne, that my grandfather might have gone on
living for a few weeks or even months. Well, there is no reason why
Marraville shouldn't go on living for awhile. Do you see what I mean? He
shall not die to-day if I can help it. He will hang on for weeks, not
permanently relieved but at least comforted in the belief that his case
isn't hopeless. I shall do my best." He smiled sardonically. "The
operation will be called a success, and he will merely go on dying instead
of having it all over with."

She closed her eyes. "Oh, how cruel it is," she murmured. "How cruel it
is, after all."

"He will curse me for failing to do my duty," said he grimly. "The world
will probably say that I am a benefactor to the human race, after all, and
I will be called a great ma