"He shook his head. 'It's deeper than that,' he answered; 'you've lost your grip because life has never meant labor to you. The people who work have healthy minds and healthy bodies. Those who do not, waver between weakness and wickedness. That's what's the matter with society to-day--that's what's the matter with you. You must finish your bunnies' ears, therefore, for the sake of your soul--your body will respond----' "She went back to her loom," Justin continued, "with a different look on her face. The lines were smoothed out from her forehead. Neither of them had seemed to notice that I was there. It was a psychological moment when the doctor had to speak, and it was wonderful to hear him talk like that." Bettina's puzzled eyes met his. "Oh, but do you think that people have to work to be happy?" she said. "I hate work. I like to be warm and comfortable, and have pretty clothes, and--everything." "Of course you do," said Justin, responding to her mood, lightly, "but you don't want to get Dr. Blake after you--he preaches a gospel of endeavor." "Oh!" There was a note of dismay in Bettina's voice. "But not all of us can be bees. Some of us must be the butterflies." Justin spoke, somewhat seriously: "I've been a butterfly for three years, and I give you my word I'm not getting much out of it. Seeing Mrs. Martens has brought back the days when I worked over there in Germany to get the money to finish my studies. Has she told you how I used to go to her and drink her delicious coffee and eat thick bread and butter, and bask in her sympathy until I got the courage to go on again? Yet I felt all the time that I was getting somewhere, and here I'm stagnating----" Bettina settled herself back comfortably in her cushioned seat. "Well, I don't think it's anything to worry about. It seems perfectly wonderful to me not to have anything to do--if I had mother back," her voice trembled, "I wouldn't care how much I had to work for her--but after she--left me, everything seemed so--so sordid, and hard--and----Oh, I hated it--and then----" She drew herself up sharply. "Then----?" Justin prompted her. "Diana came," she went on, after a moment's hesitation, "and now everything will be different." Justin had a baffled sense of some mystery from the solution of which he was shut out, but he merely said, heartily, "I hope you'll stay forever," and felt his heart leap as the ends of her white veil fluttered against his lips. CHAPTER VII HARBOR LIGHT Anthony's sanatorium was an enlargement of an old mansion which had belonged to his grandfather. The wide green lawns swept down to the sea. There was an orchard to the left of the house, and to the right a rose garden, and the barn had been turned into a weaving room.