Against the light, his back turned towards her, stood a tall, uniformed figure. Dorothea, flushed and trembling, swept forward and enveloped her friend in a fervid embrace. "_It is Jim_!" she whispered in low, intent accents. "Jim Blair. Be kind to him, Katrine, _be kind_!" She slid out of the retaining arms, a wraith-like embodiment of the Dorothea who had been, and sped from the room. The door closed behind her, and Katrine stood, a motionless figure, watching another, motionless as her own. Had he heard? Did he realise her presence? He was tall and broad; the lines of his uniform fitted tightly to his figure. He looked a man of whom a woman might be proud, but he was a man without a personality; a man whose face was hidden. Katrine laid her hand on the back of a couch and spoke two trembling words: "Captain Blair!" At the sound of her voice he turned, wheeling towards her with a swift light movement, so that she might see his face, might look in his eyes-- grey, magnetic eyes, curiously light against the sunburn of his face... Five minutes later, seated upon the huge bamboo couch, supported by strong arms which seemed to bound the world, Katrine slowly recovered collected thought. "You--are--_Jim_! ... Jim is--You! ... Then what of Captain Bedford? Where is he? _Is_ there a Captain Bedford? Is he a real living man, or just a fictitious person invented for--" "Indeed no! He is real enough, poor fellow, but in Egypt still, laid by the heel; unable to move. I only--only took his place!" "I think," announced Katrine slowly, "I am very angry!" It seemed an incongruous statement to make, considering the position and appearance of the speaker, but the hearer received it with a gravity which showed that his own conscience was not altogether at ease.