"How nice you are!" she said simply. "One needn't dot the i's, and cross all the t's with you. Of course it's very incomplete still. A suggestive study is the most one can achieve from memory. So you mustn't judge it as a portrait,--yet. It's just a daring experiment that no right-minded artist would have attempted. But it's come out better than I thought possible. And I'm glad you like my work." "I do; no question. I'm no critic, though; only a soldier, with a taste for most kinds of art. It's full of latent vigour; rugged without being rough, like Lenox himself. A fine bit of weathered rock, eh? I am only afraid that after feasting your eyes on this, the original may give you something of a shock at first sight." "Is he so terribly changed . . in one month?" "Well, think what he's been through. Concussion and cholera have knocked some of the vigour out of him; and he looks years older, for the time being. But you mustn't let that upset you. It's not unusual after cholera; and in a week he'll be looking more like himself again." Then the truth dawned on her. "Captain Desmond,--are you telling me all this because . . ?" "Yes . . again, because . . . !" he answered, smiling. "To-day?" "As soon as you please." She gave a little gasp; then shut her lips tightly. "Do you mean . . have you actually told him?" she murmured with averted eyes. "Yes." "And did he--is he----?" "It's not for me to say." Desmond seemed equal to any amount of incoherence this morning. "You'll find out for yourself in no time." "Oh dear!" "Is it as dreadful as all that?" "In some ways,--yes. It takes my breath away." "Try and get it back before you go in to him," he counselled her kindly. "And keep some sort of hold on yourself--for his sake. Don't trouble him about results, unless he broaches the subject. It we can keep clear of the worry element, just getting hold of you again may do him a power of good." Then,--creature of moods and impulse that she was,--she turned on him spontaneously, both hands outflung. "_Mon Dieu_, what a friend you have been to us both! Thank you a thousand times, for everything. I know you hate it. But if I kept it in any longer, I should burst!" "Just as well you let it out, then," Desmond answered, laughing, and grasping the proffered hands. "I must be off now. Good luck to you, Quita. You're worthy of him."