is sending Miss Isabel nearly crazy, poor lamb. And it's meself that's
wondering what we'll do to-night, for there's no peace at all in this
wooden shanty of a place."

"Be quiet, Biddy!" Scott's voice made calm, undaunted answer. "You can go
if you like. I've come to sit with Miss Isabel for a while. And I've
brought her a visitor. Isabel, my dear, I've brought you a visitor."

Dinah moved forward in response to his gentle insistence, but her shyness
went with her. She was aware of something intangible in the atmosphere
that startled, that almost frightened, her.

The gaunt figure of a woman clad in a long, white robe sat at a table in
the middle of the room with a sheaf of letters littered before her. Her
emaciated arms were flung wide over them, her white head was bowed.

But at Scott's quiet announcement, it was raised with the suddenness of
eager expectancy. For the fraction of a second Dinah saw dark, sunken
eyes ablaze with a hope that was almost terrible in its intensity.

It was gone on the instant. They looked at her with a species of dull
wonder. "Are you a friend of Scott's? I am very pleased to meet you," a
hollow voice said.

A thin hand was extended to her, and as Dinah clasped it a sudden great
pity surged through her, dispelling her doubt. Something in her responded
swiftly, even passionately, to the hunger of those eyes. The moment's
shock passed from her like a cloud.

"My sister Mrs. Everard," said Scott's voice at her shoulder. "Isabel,
this is Miss Bathurst of whom I was telling you."

"You lent me your jewels," said Dinah, looking into the wasted face with
a sympathy at her heart that was almost too poignant to be borne. "Thank
you so very, very much for them! It was so very kind of you to lend them
to a total stranger like me."

The strange eyes were gazing at her with a curious, growing interest. A
faint, faint smile was in their depths. "Are we strangers, child?" the
low voice asked. "I feel as if we had met before. Why do you look at me
so kindly? Most people only stare."

Dinah was suddenly conscious of a hot sensation at the throat that made
her want to cry. "It is you who have been kind," she said, and her little
hand closed with confidence upon the limp, cold fingers. "I am wearing
your things still, and I have had such a lovely time. Thank you again for
letting me have them. I am going to return them now."

"You need not do that." Isabel spoke with her eyes still fixed upon th