"My dear, I should mind very much." Diana reached out her hand to her. "Don't make me unhappy by taking it that way--I want you here." "But you've done enough for me, putting yourself out in this way----" "I have done only the things that I wanted to do. And now don't make me unhappy by suggesting that you won't keep poor Sophie company. What would she do without you?" Bettina looked from one to the other. "Are you very sure you shouldn't go away together, if it weren't for me?" "Very sure--I should bore her terribly." They all laughed, and Bettina said, "Of course I know you're doing it all for my sake----" "And for Anthony," said Diana, softly; "for the sake of my old friend Anthony." "How wonderful your friendship is," said Bettina, softly. "It makes me believe in all friendship, Diana." A little later she slid down from the bed. "You're tired and I'm keeping you up. I'll run along." But Diana held her for a moment. "Anthony will soon want to be going into the big house--when will you be ready, Bettina?" "Oh, not yet," said Bettina, breathlessly, "not yet. I'd rather wait. Don't you think it will be best to wait?" "Why?" "Oh," her cheeks flamed, "I don't know why--only I don't want to get married--for a long time, Diana." Diana looked at her with puzzled eyes. There was some change in the child which she could not fathom. What had happened to little Bettina in the short time since she had been away? She would ask Sophie--she would ask--Anthony. In the adjoining room the telephone rang. Sophie, going to answer it, came back with the announcement, "It's Anthony. He wanted to know if you had returned. He needs you at the hospital. That little girl with the appendicitis is very much worse. But I told him that you had just reached home, and that you were so tired, and it was so late----" "Sophie, how could you? Tell him I'll come. Ask him to send his car for me. Bettina, dear, hand me my slippers, and help me with my hair." Bettina was shivering and white. "Is it the girl Anthony operated on?" she asked. "Yes. Sophie, I'll wear the white serge. It's the easiest to get into, and my long coat----" Bettina's shaking voice went on: "Wouldn't it be--dreadful--if anything happened? Wouldn't it be dreadful--if she should die?" Sophie laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Help Diana now, dear," she advised; "we'll talk about it afterward." CHAPTER XIII HER LETTER TO ANTHONY Diana never forgot that ride in the dark to Harbor Light. It was a clear night, with the sea like a sheet of silver under the moon. The big building, which loomed up, at last, before her, seemed, with its yellow-lighted windows, like some monster of giant size, gazing wide-eyed upon the waters. The gardens, through which she passed, were heavy with the scent of hyacinths; the slight wash of the waves on the beach only emphasized the stillness.