eaving Allan bending over the bed with a hypodermic in his hand. And when,
a few moments later, George came in with his mother, they found Bruce
soothed and quieted. He even smiled as he reached up his hand.

"They say I've got to sleep, old girl--just sleep and sleep--it'll do me
good. So you mustn't stay in the room to-night. Stay with the kiddies and
get 'em to sleep." He was still smiling up at her. "They say it'll be a
long time, little wife--and I'm so sorry--I was to blame. If I'd done as
you wanted and gone in their taxi. Remember? You said it might rain." He
turned to George: "Look here, my boy, I'm counting on you. I'll be sick,
you know--no good at all. You must stand by your mother."

George gulped awkwardly:

"Sure I will, dad." His father sharply pressed his hand:

"That's right, old fellow, I know what you are. Now good-night, son.
Good-night, Edith dear." He looked at her steadily just for a moment, then
closed his eyes. "Oh, but I'm sleepy," he murmured. "Good-night."

And they left him. Alone with Allan, Bruce looked up with a savage glare.

"Look here!" he snarled, between his teeth. "If you think I'm going to lie
here and die you're mistaken! I won't! I won't let go! I'll show you chaps
you can be wrong! Been wrong before, haven't you, thousands of times! Why
be so damnably sure about _me_?" He fell back suddenly, limp and weak. "So
damnably sure," he panted.

"We're never sure, my dear old boy," said Allan very tenderly. Again he
was bending close over the bed. "We're not sure yet--by any means. You're
so strong, old chap, so amazingly strong. You've given me hope--"

"What are you sticking into my arm?" But Allan kept talking steadily on:

"You've given me hope you'll pull through still. But not like this. You've
got to rest. Let go, and try to go to sleep."

"I'm afraid to," came the whisper. But soon, as again the drug took hold,
he mumbled in a drowsy tone, "Afraid to go to sleep in the dark.... Say,
Allan--get Deborah in here, will you--just for a minute. One thing more."

When she came, he did not open his eyes.

"That you, Deborah? Where's your hand?... Oh--there it is. Just one more
point. You--you--" Again his mind wandered, but with an effort he brought
it back. "You and Edith," he said in a whisper. "So--so--so different.
Not--not like each other at all. But you'll stick together--eh?
Always--always. Don't let go--I mean of my hand."

"No, dear, no."

And with her hand holdi