loser to her. Then came an instinct, perhaps true, perhaps false, that
she was suffering, that Ross had wounded her cruelly, that she was not so
calm as her slim, erect figure seemed in the deep dusk. He burst out in
quiet, intense fury: "Del, I'll make those two wish to God they hadn't!"

"You can't do it, Artie," she replied. "The only power on earth that can
do them up is themselves." She paused to vent the laugh that was as
natural in the circumstances as it was unpleasant to hear. "And I think
they'll do it," she went on, "without any effort on your part--or mine."

"You do not hate them as I do," said he.

"I'm afraid I'm not a good hater," she answered. "I admit I've got a sore
spot where he--struck me. But as far as he's concerned, I honestly
believe I'm already feeling a little bit obliged to him."

"Naturally," said he in a tone that solicited confidences. "Haven't you
got what you really wanted?"

But his sister made no reply.

"Look here, Del," he said after waiting in vain, "if you don't want to
marry, there's no reason why you should. You'll soon see I'm not as
good-for-nothing as some people imagine."

"What makes you think I don't want to marry?" asked Adelaide, her face
completely hid by the darkness, her voice betraying nothing.

"Why, what you've been saying--or, rather, what you've _not_ been
saying."

A very long silence, then out of the darkness came Adelaide's voice,
even, but puzzling. "Well, Artie, I've made up my mind to marry. I've got
to _do_ something, and Dory'll give me something to do. If I sat about
waiting, waiting, and thinking, thinking, I should do--something
desperate. I've got to get away from myself. I've got to forget myself.
I've got to get a new self."

"Just as I have," said Arthur.

Presently he sat on the arm of her chair and reached out for her hand
which was seeking his.

When Hiram was first stricken, Adelaide's Simeon had installed himself as
attendant-in-chief. The others took turns at nursing; Simeon was on duty
every hour of every twenty-four. He lost all interest in Adelaide, in
everything except the sick man. Most of the time he sat quietly, gazing
at the huge, helpless object of his admiration as if fascinated. Whenever
Hiram deigned to look at him, he chattered softly, timidly approached,
retreated, went through all his tricks, watching the while for some sign
of approval. The first week or so, Hiram simply tolerated the pathetic
remembrancer to huma