know my name?"

She nodded, eyeing him warily. If his hand had moved, she would have
sprung backwards. But it did not stir.

"Tell me who I am, then?"

"Man."

Her lips shaped the word. Her voice was barely audible. His heart beat
thickly as he went on:

"Quite right, but something else besides a man. A man with a name. Tell me
the name, or shall I tell it you?"

She nodded, and her eyes were great and timorous, but there was no terror
of him in them now.

"My name is Saxham--Owen Saxham. Say the name after me."

For a wonder she obeyed. Sister Tobias caught a breath of surprise, but
her subdued exclamation was silenced in mid-utterance by Saxham's look.

"Dr. Owen Saxham--Doctor because I try to cure sick people. You have seen
me trying at the hospitals. You have helped me many times----"

She puckered her delicate, bewildered brows, and held her head on one
side. To be made to think, and recall, and remember, hurt.

"--Many times, and the sick people were grateful. They often ask me now,
How is Miss Mildare?"

Her attention had wandered to the bronzed buttons on the Doctor's khaki
coat. She was trying to count them, it seemed, by the movement of her
lips. Saxham went on with inexorable patience:

"Never mind the buttons. Look at me. Think of the patients at the Hospital
who are asking when Lynette Mildare is coming back again. Tell me what I
am to say to them, Lynette?"

His voice shook over the beloved name. In spite of his grim effort to
fight down the overmastering emotion, his eyes brimmed over, and a drop
splashed, hot and heavy, upon the wandering hand that crept out to finger
the buttons that would not let themselves be counted right. She looked up
at the eyes that wept for her, and their mingled love and anguish touched
even her dulled mind to pity. She held her slender hand up against the
light, and looked at the splash of wet upon it.

"You--cry?"

There was a glimmer of something in the eyes that redeemed their
vagueness. A rushlight seen shining through a night of mist upon a
desolate mountain-side might have meant as little or as much to eyes that
saw it. Saxham saw it, and it meant much to him. His great chest lifted on
a wave of hope as he answered her:

"I cry for somebody who cannot cry for herself. Shall I tell you her name?
It is Lynette Mildare. When tears come to her, then it will be for those
who love her to cry again for joy, for she will be given back to them...."

"Lord