She found Bettina still sitting stiffly on the edge of the chair. She had sent Justin back to Sophie, and a nurse had taken away the lilacs. All the glory had gone out of her morning when Anthony had asked for Diana. "Why didn't he want me?" she demanded, when Diana came toward her with an eager apology. "Why didn't Anthony want me?" "My dear, he always wants you, but there's an operation on now." "On that girl with appendicitis?" "Yes." "Oh, how can he do it, Diana? I think it's dreadful--to--to hurt people----" "He doesn't hurt them, dear." "But it's horrid. I--I hate it." "Betty!" "I--I shan't ever let him talk about it to me." The child's breath was coming quickly. "Never--never--never, when we are married--and I'm going to make him give it up----" "Give it up?" Diana's voice rang clear and sharp. "Give what up?" "His surgery. I didn't mind the other--when he came to mother and gave her medicine in bottles--but this is different, and the women here----Why, Diana, some of them looked in at the door, and they were--freaks." "They're sick, dear." "I don't like sick things. I loved mother, and I could stand it, but Anthony mustn't let me see such people--not now, so soon after----!" "Hush, Betty! Oh, you shouldn't have come in. We'll go now and have a long ride with Justin, and to-night you'll see Anthony--and some day you'll realize what a great man he is." "I know he's a great surgeon, and, of course, I'll have to put up with it--but I shall hate it just the same, Diana." Put up with it--oh, Diana! For years she had urged him toward this end, that he might stand at the head of that profession which combats death with a flaming sword. For years she had watched him struggle upward, and had gloried, not only in his fame, but in his power of healing. Together the two women went down the path. "Are you tired of waiting?" Diana asked as they came up to the car. "Justin took me for a little ride," said Sophie, "and I sat in front with him. We tried to get Bettina to go, but she wouldn't. She thought she ought to wait for you." "I wish I hadn't waited," said Bettina, as Justin helped her in. "I--I don't like sick people, and I hate that queer smell----" "Ether," said Justin, promptly; "it's because of the operation." He leaned forward, and the car shot out toward the causeway. The way led first through a street overarched with elms; beyond the elms there was a vista of sea and sky. A fragrant wind blew from the blossoming trees, and swept Bettina's veil away from her face so that it billowed above her hat like the wings of some great bird. The hospital was behind; ahead was the long white road. Justin was smiling down into her eyes. For the first time she noticed his look of joyous youth. "I begin to understand why it is that you fly," she said, as they came out upon the causeway and saw the stretch of harbor beyond. "Why?" "Because you feel that you must get up high enough to flap your wings."