She raised her eyes for a moment, and met his. The faint satire in his tone was intentionally provocative, but it failed to move her. Her regard of him was entirely impersonal. He looked away with a light shrug of the shoulders. "Well, Rowan," he said, "it seems there is nothing further to be done. If the paper does turn up," he added, "I shall know how to deal with its holder. In the meantime, about yourself." Rowan laughed a little hysterically. "About myself," he repeated. "That's a fruitful subject, isn't it?" "Doctors make mistakes sometimes," Deane said. "Let us hope that they may have made one in your case. Anyhow, there is no reason why you should not be comfortable, and have the best medical advice. Go wherever you think best, and send me your address. I shall not forget that your accident took place when you were engaged upon my affairs." "You are very good, Deane," Rowan said. The girl looked up. "Mr. Deane's kindness is quite unnecessary," she said. "We are in no want of money." "Your sister does not quite understand," Deane said, turning to him. "We have been through too many rough times in Africa together to stand upon ceremony now. You will perhaps be able to explain to her later on." He took up his hat and turned toward the door. "I shall expect to hear from you," he said, "as soon as you have decided where to go,--either from you, Rowan," he added, shaking hands with him, "or from your sister." "You are very kind, Deane," Rowan said. "I am sorry I have made such a mess of things." "It was not your fault," Deane answered. "Good-day, Miss Rowan!" She looked at him for a moment, but she did not offer to take his outstretched hand. He smiled, and withdrew it at once. "Good-day, Mr. Deane!" she said. The door closed behind him. Rowan was watching his sister anxiously. "Winifred," he said, "what is the matter with you? You were scarcely civil to Mr. Deane." "Oh! I think I was," she answered. "In any case, we don't want to take alms from him, do we?" "It isn't exactly that," Rowan objected. "It is." "He can afford it," Rowan declared. "He is very rich. A thousand pounds to him is like sixpence to us." "It doesn't alter facts," she rejoined. "I do not like Mr. Deane, Basil. It is through him that this trouble has come upon us. You have taken enough of his money." "And when I am gone?" he asked. "What about you then?" "Have I ever failed to make my own way?" she asked quietly. "I shall be safe enough, Basil."