"Perhaps you had better ask him yourself," she said coldly. Then she looked at him. "And about yourself, Ned. You've told me nothing." "Because, dear," he replied lightly, "there is nothing to tell. By the way, have you heard that Aura Graham married my friend Ted Cruttenden on Valentine's Day? You hadn't? Well, it's a fact anyhow; and she has just lost her grandfather." "Ned!" she cried rising in swift sympathy, "I--I am so sorry." "Yes! it is rather sad," he remarked coolly. "Of course it breaks up that jolly little unconventional home. By Jove! I daresay it will have to be sold; and in that case I shouldn't mind buying it. It would remind me of rather a jolly time." His insouciance silenced her, and he went off on his tour of inspection to Sister Ann, whom he found in the convalescent ward, very spic and span, very precise and satisfied. "He has not had a single drawback," she said glancing complacently at No. 36, who lay looking like an angel for virtue on a wheeled bed. "If he goes on like this, he will be discharged in a month at most. Of course he will not be quite sound; he is too radically disease-sodden for that, but he will be able to make his own living and----" "And marry," put in Lord Blackborough calmly. "It is altogether a most satisfactory business." Sister Ann looked at him doubtfully. "So far as I am concerned it is so, certainly. I disclaim responsibility after a patient leaves my hospital." "My dear Sister Ann," laughed Lord Blackborough, "I disclaim all responsibility for anything. It is the only possible way of feeling moral." He found Dr. Ramsay looking a trifle _egaré_ in a room of surpassing tidiness. Helen's hand was visible also in the doctor's dress. He had nothing but good to report in every way except that he had found it extremely difficult to ensure a supply of absolutely undeniable drugs. "It is not that any one deliberately means to cheat, but that the real thing is so difficult to get," he remarked ruefully. "You see, if a fellow sells wine or spirits that isn't genuine he can be run in; but you may kill half a dozen babies by selling stale ipecacuhana wine or any other filth and no one asks questions." He was loud in praise of his assistants, the secretary, Sister Ann. Each and all were first-class. "And Helen--Mrs. Tresillian, I mean?" asked Ned drily, "I hope she is satisfactory as matron." Peter Ramsay's face showed a trifle more colour. "Satisfactory," he echoed, "she is more than satisfactory! Do you know--" his voice sank to an almost awed tone--"I believe she looks after my--my underclothes herself." Ned Blackborough burst into a roar of laughter. "My poor Peter!" he said, "vested interests again! It's too bad!" Then he sobered down and looked quite gravely at the doctor, who was laughing too. "Ramsay," he said, "why don't you ask my cousin to marry you?" "I asked her yesterday," replied the doctor gloomily.