earth!"

"I care a very great deal," she said brokenly. "So much, that I beg of
you not to talk. It must hurt."

"Every breath is pain. If I give a shout you must not mind. It is a
relief sometimes. Pleurisy is devilish. They told you, I suppose, I have
that as well? If I don't pull through----"

"Stop! You shall not say that. You _will_ get well. I know it. I am sure
of it," she said. "Try to rest and sleep."

"I shall try, if you say you love me."

"I _love_ you," Honor said with fervour. It did not matter to her that
he might presently be rambling and forget all about her and his fevered
dreams of her. It was the truth that she loved him, and she spoke from
her heart.

He did not seem to hear her, for, already his thoughts wandered. "I keep
thinking and dreaming the wildest things and get horribly mixed," he
said frowning and puzzled. "Was I buried for days and nights in the
ruins--with someone? then how is it I am here?"

"You were buried for one night with Mrs. Meredith, and you were both
rescued in the morning."

His eyes contracted suddenly. "A pretty little creature--dear little
thing!--brainless, but beautiful. One could be almost fond of her if she
did not bore one to tears!" He turned painfully on his side and Honor
placed a pillow under his shoulders. "Ah, that's easier!--thanks,
nurse," he said mechanically. "Tears?... What about tears? Ah, Mrs.
Meredith's tears. She cried almost as much as the rain, poor kid! and we
were nearly washed out--like 'Alice,'" and he laughed huskily, forgetful
that he was again in possession of Honor's hand which he held in a vice.
"I am a damned fool to have tried it on with her. Beastly low-down
trick," he muttered almost inaudibly. "'You unspeakable cad!' she said,
and, by God! I deserved it. I should have known that she was not the
sort to play that rotten game. Ah, well! it is only another item on the
debit side of the ledger!" His eyes closed and he drifted into
unconsciousness. Honor's hand slipped from his hold and she rose to her
knees, choked with grief and longing. Oh, for the right to nurse him
tenderly! "Oh, God! give him to me!" she cried in frenzied prayer.

Dalton did not recognise her again after that, and the next morning Mrs.
Bright handed over the case to the nurses from Calcutta.

CHAPTER XVI

CORNERED

When Joyce made her final plea to be sent home to her people without
waiting for the spring, it met with little opposition. Meredith h