ear the situation
without some demonstration, she got to her feet and caught up the glass
of brandy and milk with a little exclamation.

"Here," she said, holding the glass to his lips, "here, courage,
soldier. You don't need to be afraid at a six-thousand-mile range."

The Young Doctor started, for she had said what was in his own mind,
but what he would not have said for a thousand dollars. It was fortunate
that Crozier was scarcely conscious of what she was saying. His mind was
far away. Yet, when she took the glass from him again, he touched her
arm.

"Nothing is good enough for your friends, is it?" he said gratefully.

"That wouldn't be an excuse for not getting them the best there was at
hand," she answered with a little laugh, and at least the Young Doctor
read the meaning of her words.

Presently Crozier, with a sigh, continued: "If I had done what my wife
wanted from the start, I shouldn't have been here. I'd have saved what
was left of a fortune, and I'd have had a home of my own."

"Is she earning her living too?" asked Kitty softly, and Crozier did not
notice the irony under the question.

"She has a home of her own," answered Crozier almost sharply. "Just
before the worst came to the worst she inherited her fortune--plenty of
it, as I got near the end of mine. One thing after another had gone.
I was mortgaged up to the eyes. I knew the money-lenders from Newry
to Jewry and Jewry to Jerusalem. Then it was I promised her I'd bet no
more--never again: I'd give up the turf; I'd try and start again. Down
in my soul I knew I couldn't start again--not just then. But I wanted
to please her. She was remarkable in her way; she had one of the most
imposing intelligences I have ever known. So I promised. I promised I'd
bet no more."

The Young Doctor caught Kitty Tynan's eyes by accident, and there was
the same look of understanding in both. They both knew that here was
the real tragedy of Crozier's life. If he had had less reverence for his
wife, less of that obvious prostration of soul, he probably would never
have come to Askatoon.

"I broke my promise," he murmured. "It was a horse--well, never mind.
I was as sure of Flamingo as that the sun would rise by day and set by
night. It was a certainty; and it was a certainty. The horse could win,
it would win; I had it from a sure source. My judgment was right, too.
I bet heavily on Flamingo, intending it for my last fling, and, to save
what I had left, to ge