isn't going to happen. So
cheer up, darling! I shall go back to Badgers yet. Poor old boy! It was
decent of him to pay me the compliment of being so cut up, wasn't it? I
mustn't forget to send him a cable when the deed is done."

He was switching the conversation into more normal channels with airy
inconsequence, but Olga gently brought him back to the point.

"Won't you consider my suggestion?" she said.

He smiled then, his quick, boyish smile. "My darling, I have considered
it. I'm afraid it isn't practicable. But thank you a million times over
all the same!"

"Noel!" There was keen disappointment in her voice. "Why isn't it
practicable?"

He let her hands go, and reached out, drawing her to him. "Don't tempt
me, sweetheart!" he said softly. "I'm hound enough as it is to dream of
letting you join your life to mine under present conditions. But this
other is out of the question. I simply won't do it, dear, so don't ask
me!"

"But why not?" she pleaded very earnestly. "I have told you I wish it."

He smiled--a smile that was very tender and yet whimsical also. "So
like you, darling," he said. "But it can't be done. There are always
chances to be taken in a serious operation; but I don't mean to take
more than I can help. I'm not going to chance making you a widow almost
before you are a wife."

"Oh, but, Noel--" she protested.

"Yes, really, darling. It's my final word on the subject. We will be
married just as soon after the operation as can be decently managed. But
not before it, sweetheart. Any fellow who let you do that would be a cur
of the lowest degree."

He was holding her in his arms with the words. Her head was against his
shoulder. A man had entered the conservatory behind them from an
adjoining room, lounging in with his feet in carpet slippers that made
no sound.

"And suppose--" it was Olga's voice very low and quivering--"suppose the
operation doesn't succeed,--shall you--shall you refuse to marry me
then?"

"Not much," said Noel cheerily. "If I'm alive and kicking, I shall want
you all the more. No!" He caught himself up sharply. "I don't mean that!
I couldn't want you more. Ill or well, I should want you just the same.
I only meant--" his voice grew subtly softer, he spoke with great
tenderness, his lips moving against her forehead--"I only meant that
'the desert were a paradise, if thou wert there, if thou wert there.'"

She raised her head quickly. There were tears in her eyes. "Noe