he end it was obvious, even to a man
as sick as King, that she must have gone for wood. Perhaps more than
once. He closed his eyes and lay very still. He knew now that he had
been desperately hurt; that, wounded, his fight with Brodie had brought
him very near a weakness from blood loss that was pale twin to death.
And yet he was alive and warm; he had had broth and blankets and the
fire had been kept blazing. He managed to slip a hand inside his shirt;
before his fingers found it he knew that the bandage was there. Gloria
had done all this ... Gloria, whom he had struck ...

Ever since that blow, the one act of his life which he would have given
so much to have undone, he had been ashamed. He had rejoiced in his
battle with the men who had threatened Gloria with worse than death,
rejoiced that in some way he might make reparation. But now, beginning
to understand all that Gloria had done for him, how great were the
sacrifices she had made for him, lying unconscious of all she did, it
seemed to him that the thing that he had done was a very small thing set
in the scales against her own acts. He wanted to get up and go to her;
to put his blankets about her; to play the man's part and protect and
shelter. But he could not so much as raise his voice to call her to
him.... Ever since that blow, upbraiding himself, he had said: "She was
only a little, terrified girl and you were a brute to her." And now he
thought wonderingly: "After that, she has worked for you, has nursed
you, has saved the worthless life in you when she should have let you
die." Again his eyes flew open; now they clung to her with a strange
look in them, born of many emotions.

Gloria, as though she felt his eyes upon her, stirred, rose, pushed the
hair back from her eyes and came quickly to him. And as she came, she
smiled. She went down on her knees beside him and took his hand in her
two and held it tight. She had never seen in his eyes a look like the
one now burning in them. She could not understand its mute message, but
she spoke softly:

"Everything is all right, Mark. And you are better every time you wake."

His lips strove to frame words. She bent close to them and heard his
wondering whisper:

"Every--thing--all right?"

"Yes, thank God," she whispered back to him. "Everything in all the
wide, wide world!"

No, he could not understand that. She saw perplexity in his eyes now.
But she did not mean to let him talk yet and it was time for