His heart began to pound furiously, he felt a queer tightening of the throat.

He was afraid to trust his voice.

How white and soft and gentle were her hands,--and how beautiful they were.
Suddenly she stroked the bandaged hand,--as an amiable manicurist might have done--and arose.
"There!" she said, composedly.

Her cheek was cool and unflushed, her eyes serene and smiling.

"Now you may go, Mr.Percival.Good luck! Bring back good news to us.