"He would not have tried," she said--and the man turned away. That look was not his to see. When she recalled herself it was with a sense of not having been kind. Why did she say things like that to Dr. Parkman after Karl had told her--? "And you, doctor," she said in rather timid reparation, "I wonder if you know what you have done for us both?" "Oh, I haven't counted for much," he said almost curtly. "It would have worked itself out without me." But even as he spoke he was wishing with all his heart that there was some way of showing her what they had meant to him. He did not do it, for a soul which has been long apart grows fearful of sending itself out, fearful of making itself absurd. They talked it all out then, going at practical things in a very matter-of-fact way. "And now," said the doctor, "I have a suggestion. It is more than a suggestion. It is a request. A little more than a request, even; a--" "Command?" she smiled at him. "You know," he began, "how it is with the athletes. Sometimes they become overtrained, which is the worst thing could happen to them. A good trainer never puts overtrained men in the game. Now, my dear enthusiastic friend,"--she was looking at him in that intent way of hers--"I've noticed two or three times that you've about jumped out of your chair at some meaningless noise in the other room. Your eyes tell the story;--oh there are various ways of reading it. You're a little overtrained. Before you tell Karl the great secret I want you to go away by yourself for a couple of weeks and rest." "You mean that I should leave Karl?" she demanded. "I do. I want you to have change, rest, and for that matter a little lonesomeness won't be a bad thing. You'll be in just the right mood then to put it all to him when you come back. He'll be in just the right mood to take it." "Oh, but, doctor--you don't understand! I can't leave Karl. There are things I do for him no one else could do. Why you must remember he's blind!" she concluded, passionately. She was not easy to win, but he stated his case, and one by one met her arguments. Yes--Karl would be lonely. But when she came back he would be so glad to see her that he would be a much better subject for enthusiasm than he was now. She also would be in better mood. "If you tell him now," he said, "and he makes some objections, says it can't be done--ten to one, as you are now, you will begin to cry. A nice termination for your whole winter's work! You must go to him just as you came to me in the beginning--overwhelm him, take him whether or no. And you're not right for that now. It's just because I'm bound this thing shall go through, that I insist you do as I say." "Couldn't Karl go with me?" she asked, quite humbly, her eyes pleading eloquently.