Whenever she was allowed to see Justin she came to him with hope in her shining glance. And one day Anthony let her take the nurse's place, so that for the first time they were alone. It was then that Justin told her of the Procession of Pretty Ladies. "Anthony says it was the morphine," he said, "but whatever it was, they kept me company for days." Betty laughed. "You'll soon have a real procession of pretty ladies. Diana wants to come, and Sophie and Sara and Doris. But Anthony insists that they must wait until you can sit up." "When will that be?" "Soon." "How soon?" "Don't ask so many questions. As soon as it is good for you, you impatient boy." "I _am_ impatient. I want to be up and out. I want to fly again over the harbor. Betty, all the lovely days are going, and I am lying here like a log." Her heart seemed to stand still. She knew that he would never fly again. Anthony had told her that he might prepare her in part for the truth. But Justin must not know. She spoke hurriedly. "I should hate to have you fly again--I should always be thinking of the time I saw you fall." "It's the only thing I can do well, Betty." "There are so many things that you can do--with me." He smiled. "What could I do--with you?" "You could build a little workroom in the top of our house--_our_ house, dear boy; and you could sit there and invent wonderful things to make other men safe who go up in the air, and I could watch you do it." "But why should I be shut up, dearest? I'm not made for that sort of thing. I'd rather be out--in the open." There was a note of alarm in his voice. Bettina tried to laugh naturally. "Because I'd rather have you with me, you venturesome youth--then I should know you were safe." "If anything could hold me down it would be you,--Betty." She was silent for a moment, then she said, with hesitation, "Justin, dear----" "Yes?" "I don't want to wait until you are well--to be married----" As he turned on her his puzzled glance the color flooded her face. "Perhaps it isn't usual for a woman to say--such a thing. Perhaps I shouldn't say it. But--I want to feel that I belong to you--I want to know that I have the right to be always at your side. I want to know that--where you go--I can go--Justin----" The bandages were still on his hands and arms, those hands which yearned to take her hands, those arms which ached to enfold her. But his eyes held a look which was a caress. "But it would not be fair to you, sweetheart,--to spend your honeymoon in nursing me." "It would be fair to me. Oh, Justin, Justin, it isn't just sweetheart love that I am giving you; it is wife love and mother love--I feel sometimes as if you were my hurt little boy, and that I'd give my life to help you----" She was not crying, but her voice held an emotion which was deeper than tears; her steadfast eyes met his; her little hands were laid lightly on the covers above his heart.