Just now her mind was on Merrick. The vague disappointment in their relationship had crystallized to-day into definite dissatisfaction. To use one of her father’s expressions, Justin and she had not come out of the same pasture. They thought in different languages. That he had not sympathized with the urge in her to spend herself in service for the wounded man was important beyond the immediate question. And, even if he did not agree with her, he should have understood her obligation to do as she thought best. It involved their whole future. The trouble was that he did not recognize her right to follow the guidance of her own judgment. She must defer to him, must accept his decision as final. Betty knew she could not do that. In essence she was a twentieth-century woman. CHAPTER XXIX A CHILD OF IMPULSE Betty went to sleep critical of Justin. She woke, in the dawn of a new day streaming through the window, to censure of her own conduct. Willful though the girl was, she had a capacity for generosity that saved her from selfishness. It was just as Lon said, her thoughts ran. She had to boss everybody and everything, always had to have her own way without regard to others. No wonder Justin did not like it. If she had tried hard enough, she could have made him see that this adventure was a duty laid on her, one she could not escape and retain her self-respect. Instead, she had managed so badly that she had thrown him quite out of sympathy with her point of view. A child of impulse, she decided swiftly as she dressed to have a little talk with him and say she was sorry. With this resolve came peace. Everything would be all right now between them. Hollister smiled when she came to his bedside and asked him how he was. His face reassured her. It was very pale, but it held the look of one who means to get well. Dr. Rayburn backed its promise. “He’s doing fine. Fever gone down a lot. Nursing’s the thing now, Miss Betty. You can do more for him than I can.” “Are you going back to town to-day?” she asked. “Got to. No two ways about that. Be back day after to-morrow probably. Keep giving him the tablets. Every two hours. And a teaspoon of the liquid three times a day.” They had drawn away from the bedside and by mutual consent passed out of the door into the sunshine. The crisp morning air was delightful. A million glints of light sparkled from the snow. “He’s really better, isn’t he?” she asked eagerly, and her voice throbbed with young life. “Better, yes. But--sometimes a man seems definitely to be on the mend and then he relapses without any apparent cause. It’s too soon to say he’s getting better. All I can say is that, if no unfavorable complications set in, he ought to improve.” “Ought you to leave him?” He threw up his hands in an energy of exasperation. “If you had half as much to do as I have, young lady--” “I know, but if he’s really still in danger--”