the cheerful epithet he bestowed on
Raoul is unquotable here--"Elle ne fume pas, votre Anglaise? Elle
n'est pas Creole, c'est entendu."

Dorothea had stepped into the surgery. A small round table stood in the
middle of the room; she caught at the edge of it and rested so for a
moment, for the walls seemed to be swaying and she durst not lift her
hands to shut out the roars of laughter. They rang in her ears and
shouted and stunned her. Her whole body writhed.

The hubbub below sank to a confused murmur. She heard footsteps in the
corridor--the firm tramp of the orderly followed by the shuffle of
list slippers.

"Number Two-six-seven-two is outside, ma'am. Am I to show him in?"

She bent her head and moved towards the fireplace. She heard him
shuffle in, and the door shut behind him. Still she did not turn.

"Dorothea!"--his voice shook with joy, with passion. How well she
knew that deep Provencal tremolo. She could have laughed aloud in her
bitterness.

"Dorothea!"

She faced him at length. He stood there, stretching out both hands to
her. He was handsome as ever, but pale and sadly pinched. Beyond all
doubt he had suffered. His grey-blue hospital suit hung about him in
folds.

In her eyes he read at once that something was wrong--but without
comprehending. "You sent for me," he stammered; "you have come--"

She found her voice and, to her surprise, it was quite firm.

"Yes, we have brought your release," she said; and, watching his eyes,
saw the joy leap up in them, saw it quenched the next instant as he
composed his features to a fond solicitude for her.

"But you?" he murmured. "What has happened? Tell me--no, do not draw
away! Your hand, at least."

Contempt, for herself or for him, gave her a moment's strength, but it
broke down again.

"It is horrible!" was all she answered and looked about her with a
shiver.

"Ah, the place frightens you! Well," he laughed, reassuringly, "it
frightened me at first. But for the thought of you, dearest, to
comfort--"

She stepped past him and opened the door. For a moment a wild notion
seized him that she was escaping, and he put out an imploring hand;
but he saw that, with her hand on the jamb, she was listening, and he,
too, listened. The voices in the Convalescent Ward came up to them,
scarcely muffled, through the low passage, and with them a cackling
laugh. Then he understood.

Their eyes met. He bowed his head.

"Nevertheless, I have suffered."

He s