ired, Christine?"

"A little. But it has been worth while. You carried me so nicely--so
big and strong."

She leant against Francey, nodding and smiling to reassure him. And
presently she was asleep. He saw how Francey shifted her arm so that
it encircled the bowed figure, and every ugly thing that had dogged him
in that lonely, haunted walk vanished before the kind steadfastness of
her eyes.

It was as though she had said aloud:

"We'll take care of her together. We won't let her die before we've
made her very, very happy."

Then he took out a note-book and made a shaky sketch of a pompous,
drunken-looking house with a huge door, on which were two brass plates,
side by side, bearing the splendid inscriptions:

Dr. Frances Stonehouse, Robert Stonehouse,
M.D., F.R.C.S.
Hours 10--1

He showed it to her and they smiled at one another, and there was no
one else in the carriage but themselves and their happiness.

III

1

It meant a tightening--a screwing up of his whole life. Time had to be
found. The hours had to be packed closer to make room for her. He
grasped after fresh opportunities to make money with a white-hot
assiduity. He worked harder. For he was hag-ridden by his
unfaithfulness. He drew up a remorseless programme of his days, and
after that Francey might only walk home with him from the hospital.
And there was an hour on Sunday evening when he was too tired for
anything else.

It meant a ceaseless, active negation: a "No" to the simple wish to buy
her a bunch of flowers, "No" to the longing to walk a little farther
with her in the quiet dusk, "No" to the very thought of her.

2

As usual, on the way home, they discussed their best "cases." There
was No. 10 in A Ward, a raddled woman of the streets who had been
brought in the night before as the result of a _crime passionnel_, and
whose injuries had been the subject of long deliberations. Even before
they had reached the hospital archway Robert and Francey agreed that
Rogers' air of mystery was simply a professional disguise for complete
bafflement.

"It's the sort of case I'd like to have," Robert said. "Something you
can get your teeth into and worry. I believe if I were on my
own--given a free hand--I'd work it out--pull her through. Rogers may
too. But just now he's marking time. And there's nothing to hope from
time in a job like that. No constitution. Rotten