She could make this man who worshiped her happy, and--and was it not
possible in doing so she might find, if not happiness, contentment for
herself?

A hundred times during the last two days she had asked herself this
question, until she had grown to desire that the answer might be in the
affirmative. Perhaps if she were betrothed to Falconer she would learn
to forget Drake, for whose voice and footstep she was always waiting.

On this afternoon, as she sat at her post, she was dwelling on the
problem, which had become almost unendurable at last, and she sighed
wearily.

Falconer awoke, as if he had heard her, and turned his eyes upon her
with the slow yet intense regard of the very weak.

"Are you there still?" he asked, in a low voice. "I thought you promised
me that, if I went to sleep, you would go out, into the garden, at
least."

"It wasn't exactly a promise. Besides, I don't think you have been
really asleep; and if you have it is not for long enough," she said,
smiling, and "hedging" in truly feminine fashion. "Are you feeling
better--not in so much pain?"

"Oh, yes," he replied. "I'm in no pain." He told the falsehood as
admirably as he managed his face when he was awake, but it gave him away
when he was asleep. "I shall be quite well presently. I wish to Heaven
they would let me be removed to the hospital!"