My own voice pierced through the smoke and crackle. I was going on. I would not stop until I had found him. Was that Bill, blackened, a figure in a dream, his shirt burned away from one bare shoulder. There were red marks on his shoulder-- He didn't hear me? Didn't he want to? Was he angry? I was sorry I had been so foolish, but I hadn't known that he cared. Why hadn't he told me? Or had he tried to, and I wouldn't listen? "Bill!" A spark on my dress--a glare and a flame. I was part of the roaring and the smoke and the crimson glare about me, beating at the little, licking, red tongues with ineffectual hands. Death then? But I wanted to live! It wasn't fair! Bill! His arms about me, his bare hands crushing out the flames, his agonized voice in my ears-- "Mavis! My darling!--" I was safe. I tried to put my arms around his neck, but they fell weakly to my side. He took my hands in his and clasped them where they belonged. I was lifted, borne swiftly through the night. Crimson flame and smoke--a roaring--a voice pleading with me to raise my head, to answer, only to speak--. Darkness.... CHAPTER XX Once, in the night, I awoke--fully. Before that, there had been periods of half-stupor, and then, a deep, restful sleep. But just for a minute, I was wide-awake, abnormally conscious. "Bill?" He was sitting beside the bed. The light was very dim. His hand was on my bandaged hand which was lying over the sheet. "Dearest?" "You're all right?" "I'm well," he said, "and you will be much better in the morning. Close the dear eyes now, and sleep." "You won't go away?" "Never. Go to sleep, Mavis." In the morning he was still there, sleeping, wrapped in his funny, fuzzy bathrobe, in a big chair close to the bed. His hand was still on mine. I looked for a long minute at his tired face. One eyebrow was burned almost all off. There were marks of burns on his face. And he was smiling in his sleep. I felt so rested, so very well, except for a languor and a weakness. My hands pained me. Both, I was amused to discover, were bandaged. There was a little burn on my arm. Through water and fire-- "Good morning!" said Bill, smiling at me. I closed my eyes against the look in his. It was beautiful to have him look at me so, but I could not bear it. "G-Good morning," said I, and felt the hot color flood my face. From the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair I was blushing. It was very early. The sudden tropical dawn was only a few minutes old. There was a riot of bird-song outside the window, and a wonderful, dew-washed breeze blowing through the room. "Mavis?" said Bill. He was on his knees beside the bed. I put out one bandaged hand and clumsily touched his hair. "Do you know what you've done?" he asked. "Been a fool, as usual," I suggested, looking ruefully at the bandages. "Sweet little fool," he said, in that new, deep voice. "Mavis, how could you, you frightened me almost to death--?"