word, but that's what she'll do."

"Why, Doctor!" cried David, appalled. "I love her as my own life--my
very soul."

"Of--of course. That goes without saying. We all do, we men, but
we--damn it all! Do you suppose I've lived all these years and not seen?
Why--we think of ourselves first every time. D--don't we, though?
Rather!"

"But selfish as we are, we can love--a man can, if he sets himself to it
honestly,--love a woman and make her happy, even without the
appreciation of others, in spite of environment,--everything. It's the
destiny of women to love us, thank God. She would have been doomed
surely to die if she had married the one who wanted her first--or to
live a life for her worse than death."

"Oh, Lord bless you, boy, yes. It's a woman's destiny. I'm an old fool.
There--there's my own little girl, she's m--married and gone--gone to
live in England. They will do it--the women will. Come, we'll go see
Adam."

The doctor sprang up, brushed his hand across his eyes, and caught up a
battered silk hat. He turned it about and looked at it ruefully, with a
quizzical smile playing about the corners of his eyes. "Remember that
hat?" he asked.

"Well do I remember it. You've driven many a mile in many a rainstorm
by my side under that hat! When you're done with it, leave it to me in
your will. I have a fancy for it. Will you?"

"Here, take it--take it. I'm done with it. Mary scolds me every day
about it. No p--peace in life because of it. Here's a new one I bought
the other day--good one--good enough."

He lifted a box which had fallen from his cluttered office table, and
took from it a new hat which had evidently not been unpacked before. He
tried it on his head, turned it about and about, took it off and gazed
at it within and without, then hastily tossed it aside and, snatching
his old one from David put it on his head, and they started off.

Hoyle had been placed in a small ward where were only two other little
beds, both occupied, with one nurse to attend on the three patients. One
of them had broken his leg and had to lie in a cast, and the other was
convalescing from fever, but both were well enough to be companionable
with the lonely little Southerner. Hoyle's face beamed upon David as he
bent over him.

"I kin make pi'chers whilst I'm a-lyin' here," he cried ecstatically.
"That thar lady, she 'lows me to make 'em. She 'lows mine're good uns."
David glanced at the young woman indicated. She was pleas