"Law," he asked presently, "does Miss Walden ever remind you of any one?" Law looked at the red wig. "No," he said contemplatively, "she doesn’t." A week after that, it was a warm, humid day, the windows of the studio were open. "I suppose you’ll go away when summer comes?" Norval asked. "And you?" Donelle laid down her book. "No. I’ll stay on here. I mean to get a man to look after me. I’m going to send Law on an errand." "I wish," Donelle’s eyes were filled with the yellow glow so like sunlight. "I wish, Mr. Norval, that you would try to walk. Your masseur says you are better." "What’s the use, Miss Walden? At the best it would mean a crutch or a cane. I couldn’t bring myself to that. A dog would be better, but I never saw but one dog I’d cotton to for the job." "Where is that dog, Mr. Norval?" "The Lord knows. Gone to the heaven of good, faithful pups, probably." "Mr. Norval?" "Yes, Miss Walden." "I wish, while Mr. Law is out every morning for his airing, that you would try—you could lean on my shoulder—to walk! Just think how surprised he’d be some day to find you on your feet by the north window." "Would that please you, Miss Walden, to act the part of a nice little dog leading a blind man?" "I’d love it! And you must remember, your doctor says your eyes are better. Mr. Norval," here the words came with almost cruel sternness, "I think it is—it is cowardly for you not to try and make the best of things. Even if you can’t see very well, or walk very well, you have no right to hold back from doing the best you can! It is mean and small." Ah! if Norval could have seen the eyes that were searching his grim face. "You may be right. I begin to feel I am not going to die!" Norval drew in a deep breath, his lips relaxed. "The shock is passing," Donelle’s voice softened. "You will recover, I know you will—if you are brave." "The shock! Good God, the shock! It was like hell let loose. For months I heard the splitting noise, the hot sand in my face——!" It was the first time Norval had spoken of the war, and the drops of perspiration started on his forehead. "Don’t talk of it, Mr. Norval. Please let me help you to your feet. Just a few steps." Donelle was afraid of the excitement she had aroused. In self-defense Norval let her help him. He would not lie still and remember. His self-imposed silence, once broken, might overpower him. Something dynamic was surging in him. "I cannot stand," he said weakly. "You see?" "Of course the first time is hard. You may fall halfway, but I’ll catch you, and I—I won’t tell." Norval laughed nervously. "You’re a brick," he faltered. "Now then, Mr. Norval. Put your hand on my shoulder, the other hand on this chair. Why, you’re not falling. Come on!" Two, three steps Norval took, while the veins stood out on his temples. "Good God!" he muttered under his breath, "I’m not crumbling, that’s a sure thing."