"I am very happy to see you," the doctor said in a pleasant voice. "I am also glad to say that there is very little the matter with Miss Colam. I am almost glad of the accident because it has brought Miss Colam and myself in contact once more. I met her two years ago at Hastings, when I was getting over a bad illness." "Then Dr. Newcome is your doctor, Connie," Mary cried. Connie flushed to her eyes. The stranger dropped his _Evening Standard_ on the table and affected to fold it neatly. "I wish I could think so," he said. "We only met for a day. Dreadfully unconventional, was it not? But I was very lonely at that time and very ill. My outlook was rather gloomy, too. But I wanted to see Miss Colam again, and when I got back to London I called at her rooms only to find her gone. I hope she will believe me when I say that I have been looking for her ever since." "The fortune of war," Connie said with a red face. "Nomads like ourselves are always changing quarters. And here I am just as poor as I was that day at Fairlight. I hope you can say more for your prospects, Dr. Newcome?" "I have been very fortunate," Newcome said gravely. "A distant relative died and left me some money. The money arrived just in time to enable me to buy an exceedingly good practice. I was calling on a house surgeon friend of mine at Charing Cross, when Miss Colam came in. And I do hope she won't change her lodgings again without letting me know." There was no mistaking the significance of the last few words. Clearly Connie had found the haven of rest for which her tired soul at times longed for. Mary remembered what she had said as to the man to cling to for protection in the hour of need, and what a blessed thing the man's love was for the lonely and depressed. In her mind's eye Mary could see herself alone in those dingy lodgings, painting her postcards and waiting for, what? It was, perhaps natural that the figure of Ralph Darnley should rise before her now. "I won't," Connie promised. "You will come and see me again, Dr. Newcome?" Newcome promised eagerly. He would be in town again in a day or two. Would the girls dine with him, and go to the theatre afterwards? He had an aunt in London, who he was sure would join the party. He would ask her to call on Connie. "So this is an end of _your_ trouble," Mary laughed, when Newcome had departed. "It is quite plain to me that you will very soon have the share of that practice at your disposal, dear. And if the happy expression of your face means anything, it tells me that you are not going to refuse the offer." Connie hid her blushing face and laughed. She remarked that Dr. Newcome had left his paper behind him. With some show of interest, she turned over the paper. Then she stopped, and a little cry broke from her.