Mam Liz's voice, in guarded tones came from the hall, "Yes marm, he's to home, but he's plumb tuckered out. Is yo' got to see him? Yo' ain't wantin' him to go out agin is yo'?" Another voice answered, but the listening doctor could not distinguish the reply. "Oh sho mam. Come in, come in. He's in the library." A moment the nurse stood, hesitating, in the doorway. Dr. Harry sprang to his feet. "Miss Farwell! I'm glad to see you. I--" Then he stopped looking at her in astonishment. Very softly she closed the door behind her, and--going to the table--closed the medicine case. Then lifting her eyes to him with a meaning look she said simply, "I am glad, too." He turned his face away. "You--you saw?" "The window shades were up. I could not help it." He dropped into the chair. "I'm a weak fool, Miss Farwell. No man in my profession has a right to be so weak." "Yes, that's it," she said gently. "Your profession--those who depend upon you for their own lives and the lives of their dear ones--you must remember that always. Your ministry." He raised his face and looked at her squarely. "I never did this before. You believe me, Miss Farwell, that this is the first time?" She returned his look frankly. "Yes," she said. "I believe you, and I believe it will be the last." And it was. For there was something in that voice, something in the calm still depth of those gray eyes that remained with Dr. Harry Abbott and whenever afterwards he reached the limit of his strength, whenever he gave so much of himself in the service of others that there was nothing left for himself--this incident came back to him, that something held him--kept him strong. Very quickly the nurse changed the subject and led the physician's mind away from the sadness and horror of his work that had so nearly wrought such havoc. The big empty house no longer seemed so big and empty. She made him light his pipe again and soon the man felt his tired nerves relax while the weary brain ceased to hammer away at the problems it could not solve. Then at last she told him why she had come--to bid him good-bye. "But I thought you were going to stay!" he cried. "I had thought of doing so," she admitted. "But something--something makes it necessary for me to go." His arguments and pleadings were in vain. Her only answer was, "I cannot, Dr. Abbott, truly I cannot." Nor would she tell him more than that it was necessary for her to go. "But we need you so. I need you; there is no one can take your place--Hope--" Then he stopped. She was frankly permitting him to look deep into her eyes. "I am sorry, Doctor, but I must go." And the strength of her held him and made him strong. "Just one thing, Miss Farwell. You are not going because of--because of me?" She held out her hand. "No indeed, Doctor. Whatever you think, please don't think that."