She lay with her delicate face pressed into the pillow, the small neck visible under the cloud of hair, one hand, the soft palm uppermost, on the sheet.

He bent down and kissed the hand, glad that the sharp-faced nurse was not there to see.

The touch of the fragrant skin thrilled him with pride and joy; so did the lovely defencelessness of the child's sleep.

That such a possession should have been given to him, to guard and cherish! There was in his mind a passionate vow to guard the little thing--aye, with his life-blood; and then a movement of laughter at his own heroics.

Well!--Daphne might give him sons--but he did not suppose any other child could ever be quite the same to him as Beatty.