ich their brief evening meal had
been served. "I say the way the heart has rallied proves that we've got
more strength to draw on than any of them have been willing to admit.
The breathing's better too. If we can fight off the degenerative
processes--and, by George, I believe we can!" He looked up suddenly at
Justine. "With you to work with, I believe I could do anything. How you
do back a man up! You think with your hands--with every individual
finger!"

Justine turned her eyes away: she felt a shudder of repulsion steal over
her tired body. It was not that she detected any note of personal
admiration in his praise--he had commended her as the surgeon might
commend a fine instrument fashioned for his use. But that she should be
the instrument to serve such a purpose--that her skill, her promptness,
her gift of divining and interpreting the will she worked with, should
be at the service of this implacable scientific passion! Ah, no--she
could be silent no longer....

She looked up at Wyant, and their eyes met.

"Why do you do it?" she asked.

He stared, as if thinking that she referred to some special point in his
treatment. "Do what?"

"It's so useless...you all know she must die."

"I know nothing of the kind...and even the others are not so sure
today." He began to go over it all again--repeating his arguments,
developing new theories, trying to force into her reluctant mind his own
faith in the possibility of success.

* * * * *

Justine sat resting her chin on her clasped hands, her eyes gazing
straight before her under dark tormented brows. When he paused she
remained silent.

"Well--don't you believe me?" he broke out with sudden asperity.

"I don't know...I can't tell...."

"But as long as there's a doubt, even--a doubt my way--and I'll show you
there is, if you'll give me time----"

"How much time?" she murmured, without shifting her gaze.

"Ah--that depends on ourselves: on you and me chiefly. That's what
Garford admits. _They_ can't do much now--they've got to leave the game
to us. It's a question of incessant vigilance...of utilizing every hour,
every moment.... Time's all I ask, and _you_ can give it to me, if any
one can!"

Under the challenge of his tone Justine rose to her feet with a low
murmur of fear. "Ah, don't ask me!"

"Don't ask you----?"

"I can't--I can't."

Wyant stood up also, turning on her an astonished glance.

"You can't what--?"

T