And the pitiful feature of it was that he must sit and listen to this undeserved praise from her lips. That, knowing deep in his heart his own unworthiness, he must face her and see her respond to those things as though he really had been worthy. He, who had done the act under oath, was receiving the reward of a man who would have done it with no false stimulus. He, who had been unconsciously braced to it by the fact that he had so little to lose, was receiving the praise due only a man who risks all the happiness of a long life. He had faced death after flinching from life. He was sick of his hypocrisy; he would be frank with himself. He would be frank with her; he had a right to it this once. He pressed down the paper she was reading. "Don't repeat it," he commanded. "It is n't true! It's all wrong!" "What do you mean?" "That it's all a lie!" "But here 's your picture. And _that 's_ you." "Oh, the naked facts are true. But the rest about,--" it was hard to do this with her eyes upon him, "the rest about being a hero--about nerve and bravery. It's rot! It is n't so!" She threw back her head, resting it upon the top of her chair, and laughed gently. The color had come back into her cheeks and even the dark below her eyes seemed to fade. "Of course," she returned, "you would n't be a truly hero if you knew you were one." "But I know I 'm not." "Of course and so you are!" The impulse was strong within him to pour out to her the whole bitter story. Better to stand shorn and true before her than garbed in such false colors as these. But as before, he realized that her own welfare forbade even this relief. The nurse approached with a cheery smile, but with an unmistakable air of authority. "You will pardon me," she interrupted, "but we must keep Miss Arsdale as quiet as possible. I think she ought to try to sleep a little now." Sorry as he was to go, Donaldson was relieved to know that he was leaving her in such good hands. The ringing of the front door-bell startled her. She shrank back in her chair. The nurse was at her side instantly. "You had better leave at once," she whispered to Donaldson. "It's only the new cook," he answered. He went downstairs and ushered her in, and led her to the kitchen. "The place is yours," he said, waving his hands about the room, "and all you 've got to do is to cook quickly and properly whatever order is sent down to you. Get that?" The woman nodded, but glanced suspiciously about the deserted quarters. The place looked as when first opened in the Fall, after the return from the summer vacation. "The family," Donaldson went on to explain, "consists of three. If you succeed in satisfying this group I 'll give you an extra ten at the end of the week." "I 'll do it, sor." She looked as though she was able. "Anything more you want to know?" "The rist of the help, sor,--" "You 're all of it," he answered briefly.