ry-red
blotches just above one of the delicate wrists. He stooped and laid
masterful hold of the long handle of the brush.

"Well?" she said, stopping perforce and looking up in surprise.
"What is it?"

"Your arm--you are burned, badly burned."

Gerald made a little sound of contempt for all reply.

"It should be dressed at once. How it must pain you!"

Gerald looked at her arm reflectively. "I haven't had time to feel," she
said, vainly trying to pull her sleeve over it. "It will make an ugly
scar, won't it? I shall have to abandon elbow sleeves. Now please let go
the brush."

"Miss Vernor, why should you be so cruel to yourself? Do go up to the
doctor at once!"

"And take him away from Phebe? I will not. It won't hurt any more now
than it has done already. I must ask you to let me have the brush, Mr.
Halloway. I am losing time."

Halloway relinquished it without speaking, and went quietly out of the
room, and Gerald unconcernedly resumed her work, scarcely pausing to
wonder where he had gone or what he intended. He returned just as she had
finished, and lifting the lamp back to the table, called to her: "Will
you come here, please?"

"What in the world have you there?" she inquired, coming up to him in
sheer curiosity.

"Soap. I found the way to the kitchen, you see. I had to bring the water
in this tin thing. I didn't know where to look for a cup."

"Pray what is it for?"

"For you. Soap is good for burns. Will you let me take your hand,
please?"

Gerald put the wounded member behind her. "Thank you. I neither require
nor desire assistance."

"Pardon me, you do require it, and if you refuse to see the doctor--"

"Is that any reason why I should resort to you--and kitchen soap?"

"I grant it is a very homely remedy, Miss Vernor, but it is an excellent
one and the only one I know."

"I daresay. It is one more than I know of."

"You will not try it?"

"No."

"Perhaps you are afraid of the pain attending the dressing?"

It was a masterly stroke. Gerald gave him one look of intense scorn,
almost of anger, and immediately reached out her hand. "I am afraid of
nothing--not even of your lack of skill."

Denham took her hand without further ceremony, and holding it firmly,
pushed back the hanging lace from her arm and began rubbing the soap over
the burns, without so much as a word of pity for the pain he knew he was
giving her. She winced involuntarily at the first touch, but set her
teeth tigh