y that I could have danced for joy.

"Mind, I don't promise anything," Sir Beverley reminded me. "But there
_is_ hope. Murray must have had a marvellous constitution to have gone
through what he has, in the war and since. If he hadn't had that, he'd
be dead now. And then, of course, this amazing romance of his--this
deathbed marriage--as you might call it--has given him a wonderful
fillip. Happiness is an elixir of life, even in the most desperate cases
at times, so I've got something hopeful to work on. I don't feel _sure_
even of a partial success for my treatment, and I told them that. It's
an experiment. If it fails, Murray may burn out rather than flicker out,
and go a few weeks sooner than he need if let alone. If it
succeeds--why, there's no limit to the success it _might_ have!"

"You mean, he might be entirely cured--a well man again?" I almost
gasped.

"Yes, it's just on the cards," Sir Beverley answered.

"Of course, Murray decided at once to run the risk?" asked Jim.

"Of course," replied the specialist. But he looked thoughtful.

"And Rosemary?" I added. "Couldn't she have kissed your feet for the
blessed message of hope you gave her?"

Sir Beverley smiled at the picture. "I saw no sign of such a desire on
the part of the beautiful lady," he said.

"She's rather shy of expressing her emotions," I explained Rosemary to
the great man. "But she has the _deepest_ feelings!"

"So I should judge," he answered rather drily. "Perhaps, though, she has
no great faith in the experiment, and would prefer for her husband's
peace to let 'well enough alone,' as people vaguely say."

Again I felt the disagreeable shock I'd experienced when Rosemary had
first spoken to me of Murray's death as certain. "It must be that," I
said, quickly. "She adores him."

"She gave me proof of that, in case I'd doubted," Sir Beverley answered.
"I told them that before beginning the hypodermic injections of serum I
should like to change and purify Murray's blood by transfusion, and so
give him an extra chance. Mrs. Murray instantly offered her blood, and
didn't flinch when I told her a pint would be necessary. Her husband
refused to let her make such a sacrifice for him, and was quite
indignant that I didn't protest against it. But she begged, coaxed,
insisted. It was really a moving scene, and--er--went far to remove my
first impression."

"What was your first impression?" I catechized. "Oh, don't think I ask
from curiosity! I