ke no difference, Carew. In facing the main question,
such things as that don't count. Even if they did, though," he rose
on his elbow and faced his friend steadily; "even if they did, I
would never consent to try to bribe a girl into loving me, by
telling her I had won the V. C. It will be time enough for Miss Dent
to hear of it, when it is given."

"But you will be in England then," Carew objected practically.

Weldon lay down again and drew the sheet upward till its shadow lay
across his lips.

"What matter?" he answered slowly. "And, besides, Miss Dent isn't
the girl to be won in any such way as that. Hers is a love to be
given, not bought."

Half an hour later, Carew met Ethel on the stairs. As he halted to
speak to her, he was shocked at the look in her face. The lips were
smiling; but the eyes were the eyes of a hunted animal.

"So long since we have met!" he said, as he took her hand. "And so
much has happened."

"Yes. I have been hoping to congratulate you," she answered.

"It was a stunning letter you wrote me," he said boyishly. "I
suppose we are cousins now."

Then there came a little pause. Before either of them quite realized
it, the pause had lengthened until it was hard to break.

"I have been up to see the invalid," he blurted out at last.

"How is he?" the girl inquired courteously.

"Better." Then a sudden note of resentment crept into Carew's honest
voice. "He is counting the days now before he can be moved. He says
your mother has been wonderfully good to him."

The girl stood aside to let Carew pass her by.

"She is good to everybody," she assented quietly. "I hope Mr. Weldon
won't think of going away until he can be moved with perfect safety.
It is really no trouble to have him here, and the nurse is very
capable."

And Carew bowed in agreement. Once outside the door, however, he
freed his mind, tersely and with vigor.

"Damn the nurse!" he said to the oak tree, as he passed it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"There's a true Heart in the West World, that is beating
still for me,
Ever praying in the twilight once again my face to see.
Oh, the World is good and gladsome, with its Love both
East and West,
But there's ever one love only that is still the First and Best."

The low voice died away. A moment later, Ethel Dent pushed open one
of the long windows of the drawing-room and stepped out on the
veranda. The flower-boxes were filled with