chair again, still holding her. She dropped on her
knees beside him, with her arms around him. She had a little leisure
now to observe that Wallis, the ever-resourceful, had tied the tramp
neatly with the outdoor man's suspenders, which were nearer the surface
than his own, and succeeded in prying off the still unappeased Foxy, who
evidently was wronged at not having the tramp to finish. They carried
him off, into the back kitchen garden. Allan, now that he was certain of
Phyllis's safety, paid them not the least attention.

"Did you mean it?" he said passionately. "Tell me, did you mean what you
said?"

Phyllis dropped her dishevelled head on Allan's shoulder.

"I'm afraid--I'm going to cry, and--and I know you don't like it!" she
panted. Allan half drew, half guided her up into his arms.

"Was it true?" he insisted, giving her an impulsive little shake. She sat
up on his knees, wide-eyed and wet-cheeked like a child.

"But you knew that all along!" she said. "That was why I felt so
humiliated. It was _you_ that _I_ thought didn't care----"

Allan laughed joyously. "Care!" he said. "I should think I did, first,
last, and all the time! Why, Phyllis, child, didn't I behave like a
brute because I was jealous enough of John Hewitt to throw him in the
river? He was the first man you had seen since you married
me--attractive, and well, and clever, and all that--it would have been
natural enough if you'd liked him."

"Liked him!" said Phyllis in disdain. "When there was you? And I
thought--I thought it was the memory of Louise Frey that made you act
that way. You didn't want to talk about her, and you said it was all a
mistake----"

"I was a brute," said Allan again. "It was the memory that I was about
as useful as a rag doll, and that the world was full of live men with
real legs and arms, ready to fall in love with you.

"There's nobody but _you_ in the world," whispered Phyllis.... "But
you're well now, or you will be soon," she added joyously. She slipped
away from him. "Allan, don't you want to try to stand again? If you did
it then, you can do it now."

"Yes, by Jove, I do!" he said. But this time the effort to rise was
noticeable. Still, he could do it, with Phyllis's eager help.

"It must have been what Dr. Hewitt called neurasthenic inhibition," said
Phyllis, watching the miracle of a standing Allan. "That was what we
were talking about by the door that night, you foolish boy!... Oh, how
tall you are! I