’Of course not,’ said my brother, ’that would be different. She’d have taken him already then for better or for worse.’ ’She doesn’t wait to take him till she goes to church in orange blossom and satin, she does that when she first tells him she loves him, doesn’t she?’ ’Of course,’ said Monica. ’Are you absolutely sure he loves me, Ross, and that there is no other woman?’ ’I did once hear him say he’d rather have the Gidger.’ ’Oh, Ross, the comfort of you!’ said poor Monica, and laughed and cried together. ’I must go to him,’ she added, and as she did this ’splendid thing’ the last vestige of ’littleness’ dropped away from her. ’And I will take you,’ answered Ross, ’but first you must have food and coffee. Had any lunch?’ ’No,’ said Monica, ’and I can’t eat till it’s settled.’ ’Get your hat on, Meg, and let me deal with this rebellious woman, I’m getting such a dab at it.’ She laughed and let him put her in a comfy chair, and ate the food he brought, while he sat beside her and told her all the things he could remember that Charlie had ever said about her, and her eyes were shining when I came down ready for the drive. Yes, the ’Hon. Miss Cunningham’ looked a different woman; more exclusive, if you know how that looks. ’Oh, Meg,’ she said, ’I feel heaps better,’ and then shamelessly, ’If Charlie throws me over I shall marry Ross.’ ’Done,’ said my brother, ’that’s a bargain, mind.’ Somehow I don’t think the S.P. would approve, do you? Such remarks are not made in the best circles. We were very silent in the car. Once Monica turned to Ross,— ’Oh, are you sure that it’s only his eyes?’ And Ross said simply,— ’Quite sure, dear, don’t doubt his love,’ and took her hand and held it till the car stopped at the hospital. We saw the matron first. ’He’s very brave,’ she said, ’and very very patient, but I’m not happy about him, he’s got something on his mind. He asked for a typist the day before yesterday and dictated a letter. He hasn’t slept since. You can go up and see him at once if you like.’ So Ross and I went up, and the matron promised to bring Monica up in ten minutes. Charlie was lying propped up with pillows in a little room alone. I never saw a face with such a tortured look. It nearly broke my heart. ’Who is it?’ he asked, turning his poor, bandaged face towards the door, and when I took his hand he said,— ’Why, it’s Meg and Ross; how jolly of you, dear old things.’ ’Charlie,’ I said presently, ’why did you write that letter to Monica?’ and as I spoke the door was pushed open a little way and Monica slipped in. He turned his face away. ’Meg, I can’t discuss that, even with you.’ ’But,’ I persisted, ’don’t you love her any more?’ ’Love her. _My_ God, how can you ask me such a thing, how dare you torture me like that. There’s some one in the room,’ he added quickly, ’oh, who is it?’ And then as Monica put her arms around him, he sighed,—