Bruce steadied her and turned to Hester for an explanation. "It's that dreadful, horrible little Nellie!" she cried. "She met us at the gate and told us that the knife had slipped and had stabbed you in the heart. I think we must amputate her head!" And Hester, gently disengaging herself from Rob, and with a look at Bruce, ran out of the room. Rob stood with bowed head still holding Bruce's coat, shaking with sobs beyond her control. The colour mounted to Bruce's temples as he realized that at last Rob knew her own mind, and had surrendered. He did not speak for a moment, but stroked her hair from which her hat had fallen, and which the September wind had whipped into more rings and ripples than usual, steadying himself against the great rush of gladness with which he realized what all this meant. Rob made a strong effort at self-control, feeling miserably for her handkerchief as she sobbed: "You wouldn't like to have a friend stabbed in the heart yourself, Bruce. And it shocked me." Bruce laughed outright. "Don't apologize, Rob dearest," he said. "I don't mind." And he wiped her eyes with his own handkerchief in a paternal manner. "She is a limb, that youngster, to frighten you so, but somehow I can't feel just indignation yet. I never thought I should admire a lie so much," said Bruce. "Look up at me, Rob, and let me see my wife." "There isn't anything to see," said Rob faintly. "I am numb." "Poor darling!" said Bruce. "It was a cruel thing! I won't bother you now, dear. Let me put you over in the rocking-chair in the sunshine, and then I'll hunt up Mother Flinders and get her to bring you a cup of hot milk, and I'll give you something to steady you. Dear heart, you didn't know that you cared like this, did you?" "I didn't," said Rob feebly. "People always care most when you're dead." "That's bad," said Bruce, "because I am alive, and hope to keep on living. There's enough strength left in you to make a feeble fight against capitulation, isn't there, Bobs Bahadur?" And Bruce lightly kissed the tumbled, reddish brown hair curling up against his arm. "Now sit here, all comfy, my Robin, and I'll bring you something that will set you up again, your old self. Do you want Hester?" Rob shook her head. "Come back yourself, Bruce, only you, else I shall begin again believing it was true," she said simply, and Bruce left her with a throb of wondering delight that this could be independent Rob. Bruce hastened back with his restorative, and Mrs. Flinders followed soon with the hot milk. "That is considered the best kind of a restorative after an operation, and you underwent a severe amputation, Rob," said Bruce, holding the cup to her lips, while Mrs. Flinders looked on with grimness, concealing her pleasure that what everybody wanted had come to pass.