From outset to close he had clung to the support of Desmond's presence with the tenacity of an exhausted body and a fevered brain;--a tenacity which could not fail to touch the older man's heart, and which had made it difficult for others to take their due share in the nursing. Thus the slow weeks of dependence on one side, and unwearied service on the other, together with the underlying bond between them, had wrought a closeness of friendship to which the Boy had long aspired; and which promised to add depth and stability to the warmth and uprightness of heart that were already his. Harry Denvil's present need was for a tacit wiping out of the past, an unquestioning trust in regard to the future; and his Captain, after the wordless manner of men, gave him full assurance of both. It is just this power to draw out the best and strongest by the simple habit of taking it for granted that marks the true leader; the man who compels because he never insists; whose influence is less a force than a subtle radiation. And now, as Theo Desmond sat alone fronting a world compact of mist and fire, and the fragrance of moist earth, his mind was mainly concerned with the Boy's future, and with certain retrenchments of his own expenditure, whereby alone he could hope to cancel the debts that remained after the disposal of Roland. His sole trouble in respect of these retrenchments lay in the fact that they must, to some extent, affect his wife. If only she could be persuaded to see the necessity as clearly as he did himself, all would be well. She and Harry had been good friends from the outset. He hoped--he believed--she would understand. Light footsteps on the boards behind him brought a smile to his lips; but he neither turned nor stirred. An instant later, hands cool and imponderable as snowflakes rested on his forehead, and silken strands of hair brushed it softly as his wife leaned over him, nestling her head against his own. "Are you very happy sitting there?" she whispered. "Supremely happy." "Why? Because you're so nice and wet, and messy?" "Yes; and a few other reasons as well." "What other reasons? Me?" "Naturally, you dear little goose! Come round and let me get a sight of you, instead of perching behind me like a bird." She came round obediently, standing a little away from him,--a slim strip of colour that reflected the uncertain sea-tint of her eyes,--and looked down upon his disordered appearance with a small grimace. "I'm not _sure_ that I love you properly, Theo, when you're _quite_ as muddy as that." "Oh yes, you do; come on!" And putting out an arm, he drew her down till she knelt beside him, her hands resting on his knee. He covered them quietly with one of his own. "Ladybird, it's turning out a glorious evening! Come for a walk." "Oh, Theo, _don't_ be so uncomfortably energetic! I hate going out in the wet. You only came in half an hour ago, and you've been walking all day."