“My acquaintance with Miss Johnston. There are some women who carry the impress of fineness and of character in their faces and their smallest actions. Even if I had learned nothing else about her, after seeing Helga Johnston I would think it an honour for any family to welcome her.” Haynes’ face softened, but it still was with some harshness that he said: “There are other Coltons who think otherwise.” “That is because they don’t know,” was the quick reply. “I want Everard to have his chance, and I’ve put this case before you because I know and respect your relation to Miss Johnston, and because I believe it is your right.” “Yes, you’re fair about it,” said Haynes, and fell into deep thought. “Of course,” said Dick uneasily, “if having Everard here is going to be—er—painful to you, I won’t ask him. I should have thought of that first. I don’t know that Everard would have a chance anyway.” “Dr. Colton, I believe that Helga did care for your brother.” “But is it an open field?” asked Dick impulsively. A slight smile appeared on Haynes’ lined face. “You mean, do I want to marry Helga myself? She has never thought of me in that way. In a way it would be painful, yet I should be glad to know, while I have time, that she was going to marry some good man—but not any man whose family could not accept her as she deserves.” “While you have time,” said the young physician slowly. “While you have——” He broke off, advanced a step and peered into the other’s face. Haynes bore the scrutiny with a grim calmness. As Colton scrutinised, the harsh lines that he had translated into irritable temperament leaped forth into the terrible significance of long-repressed pain. “I don’t want to be professionally intrusive,” said the young doctor slowly, “but I think—I’m afraid—I know what you mean.” “Ah, I see you are something of a diagnostician,” said Haynes quietly. “How long has it been going on?” “Nearly a year. It’s just behind the left armpit. Rather an unusual case, I believe. You see, I’m not on the lists as a marrying man.” Colton walked to and fro on the little level stretch, half a dozen times. He had seen sickness and suffering in its most helpless forms; but this calm acceptance of fate affected him beyond his professional bearing. “Do your people know?” “I have no people. It hasn’t seemed worth while to mention it to my friends. So you will regard this as a professional confidence?” “Oh, look here!” burst out Colton. “I can’t sit around and watch this go on. I’ve got more money than I can rightly use. You don’t know me much, and you don’t like me much, but try to put that aside. Let me pay your——” he glanced at Haynes and swiftly amended—“let me lend you enough to take you abroad for a year. I’ll write to some people in Vienna and Berlin. They’re away ahead of us in cancerous affections. I’d go with you, only——”