ho?"

"The Bolsheviki--they killed Nicholas and his whole family--his wife,
son and four daughters----"

"Peter!" Beth started up and stared at him in startled bewilderment, as
she remembered the talks she had had with him about the Russian
Revolution. "Nicholas----!" she gasped. "His wife--son--daughters. He
had the same name as--as the Czar--!" And as her gaze met his again she
seemed to guess.... "Peter!" she gasped. "What--what do you mean?"

"I mean that it was the Little Father--the Czar--who was my cousin,
Beth."

She stared at Peter in awe and a kind of fear of this new element in
their relations.

"And--and you----? You're----?"

"I'm just Peter Nichols----," he said with a laugh.

"But over there----"

"I'm nothing. They chucked us all out, the Bolsheviki--every last one of
us that had a handle to his name."

"A handle----?"

"Yes. I used to be Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch of Zukovo and
Galitzin----"

"G-Grand Duke Peter!" she whispered in a daze. And then, "Oh--how--how
_could_ you?" she gasped.

Peter laughed.

"I couldn't help it, Beth. I was born that--way. But you _will_ forgive
me, won't you?"

"Forgive----? Oh--it--it makes such a difference to find--you're not
_you_--but somebody else----"

"No. I _am_--_me_. I'm not anybody else. But I had to tell
you--sometime. You don't think any the less of me, do you, Beth?"

"I--I don't know _what_ to think. I'm so--you're so----"

"What?"

"Grand--and I'm----"

Peter caught her hands and made her look at him.

"You're the only woman in the world I've ever wanted--the only
one--and you've promised me you'd marry me--you've promised, Beth."

Her fingers moved gently in his and her gaze, wide-eyed, sought his.

"And it won't make any difference----?"

"No, Beth. Why should you think that?"

"I--I was afraid--it might," she gasped. And then for a while Peter held
her hands, whispering, while Beth, still abashed, answered in
monosyllables, nodding from time to time.

Later the nurse entered, her glance on her wrist-watch.

"Time's up," she said. And Beth rose as one in a dream and moved slowly
around the foot of the bed to the door.

* * * * *

Jonathan K. McGuire had been as much astonished as Beth at the
revelation of Peter's identity, and the service that Peter had rendered
him made him more than anxious to show his appreciation by doing
everything he could for the wounded man's comfort and ha