"He is my friend--and I think you are the only one who can do anything for him." Alice Deringham had in her a trace of greatness which was instinctive, and not the result of the training that had taught her serenity.

So, though the man had not hidden his meaning, she made no protest nor asked any question.
"All this is new to me," she said; "but I will do the best I can." Seaforth led her into a room where a dim light was burning.

It was most of it in shadow, but she could see the still form on the bed, and for a moment or two nothing else.

The face on the pillow was very white and hollow, the half-closed eyes had a curious glitter, while a lean hand was clenched upon the coverlet.

Alice Deringham had seen very little of suffering of any kind, and nothing of sickness, and for a moment she stood motionless, horrified at the sight of what was left of the man who had parted from her on the verandah the incarnation of resolute virility.