't he be radiant? Life
has given him everything. It has given her everything; in a way it has
given you everything. I am the one who goes without--it looks as if I
should always go without the things I want."

"Don't think that," Drusilla said in her pleasant fashion. "Nobody is
set apart--and some day you will see it. Did you know that Derry may
be over now at any time, and that Jean is to stay with the General?"

"Yes," Hilda moved restlessly. There came to her a vision of the big
house, of the shadowed room, of the room beyond, and of herself in a
tiara, with ermine on her cloak.

What a dream it had been, and she had waked to this!

She rose. "If Dr. McKenzie doesn't take me back he may be sorry. Will
you write to him?"

"I shall see him Saturday--in Paris. I have promised to dine with him.
Captain Hewes is coming, too, if he can."

Hilda, going away in the rain, dwelt moodily on Drusilla's
opportunities. If only she, too, might dine in Paris with men like Dr.
McKenzie and Captain Hewes. There were indeed, men who might ask her
to dine with them, but not as Drusilla had been asked, as an equal and
as a friend.

The way was long, the road was muddy. There was not much to look
towards at the end. It was not that she minded the dreadfulness of
sights and sounds--she had been too much in hospitals for that. But
she hated the ugliness, the roughness, the grinding toil.

Yet had she been with Dr. McKenzie, she would have toiled gladly for
him. There would have been the sight of his crinkled copper head, the
sound of his voice, his teasing laugh to sustain her. And now it was
Drusilla who would see him, who would sit with him at the table, who
would tempt his teasing laugh.

Well--if he didn't take her back, he would be sorry. There had been a
patient in the hospital who in his delirium had whispered things. When
he had come to himself, she had told him calmly, "You are a spy." He
had not whitened, but had measured her with a glance. "Help me, and
you shall see the Emperor. There will be nothing too good for you."

Drusilla, after Hilda's departure, sat by her little stove and thought
it over. She divined something which did not appear on the surface.
She was glad that she had promised to plead Hilda's cause. The woman's
face haunted her.

And now the other workers who shared Drusilla's shack returned,
bringing news of many wounded and on the way. Then came the darkness
of the night, t