CHAPTER XXXIII.
The next morning Wally was a little better.
He was still unconscious, but thanks to the surgeon his breathing was less laboured and he was resting more quietly.

Mary had stayed with Helen overnight, and more than once it had occurred to her that even as it requires darkness to bring out the beauty of the stars, so in the shadow of overhanging disaster, Helen's better qualities came into view and shone with unexpected radiance.
"I know..." thought Mary.

"It's partly because she's sorry, and partly because she's busy, too.

She's doing the most useful work she ever did in her life, and it's helping her as much as it's helping him--" They had a day nurse, but Helen had insisted upon doing the night work herself.

There were sedatives to be given, bandages to be kept moist.
Mary wanted to stay up, too, but Helen didn't like that.
"I want to feel that I'm doing something for him--all myself," she said, and with a quivering lip she added, "Oh, Mary...