Major Shileto overheard and laughed. She blushed and half rose. "That's not the way to treat visitors, Mr. McKay." The boy stretched out his hand. "I'm awfully sorry if I was rude. Don't go." She yielded. "All the same," she said, "you'll have to get used to a bit of loneliness. It can't be helped. Besides, you're not the only tiger that hasn't got a Christian. There's Major Shileto. And you can read and he can't." The voice came from the next bed. "Don't worry about me. Talk to the boy. I'll have some one to see me to-morrow. He won't, poor old chap!" "Have a game of chess?" said the boy. "With pleasure." She fetched the board and chessmen from the long table running down the center of the ward, and they set out the pieces. "I reckon to be rather good," said he. "Perhaps I might give you something." "I'm rather good myself," she replied. "I was taught by--" She stopped short, on the brink of pronouncing the name of the young Polish master who lived (in a very material sense) on the fringe of the Chelsea crew. "We'll start even, at any rate." They began. She realized that the boy had not boasted, and soon she became absorbed in the game. So intent was she on the problem presented by a brilliant and unexpected move on his part that she did not notice the opening of the door and the swift passage of a fur-coated figure behind her chair. It was a cry that startled her. A cry of surprise and joy, a cry of the heart. "Marjorie!" She looked up and saw the fur-coated figure--that of a girl with fair hair--on her knees by the bedside, and Harry Shileto's arms were round her and his lips to hers. She stared, frozen. She heard: "I didn't expect you till to-morrow." "I just had time to catch the train at Inverness. I've not brought an ounce of luggage. Oh, my poor, poor, old Harry!" It was horrible. The boy said: "Never mind, Sister; he's got his Christian all right. Let's get on with the game." Mechanically obeying a professional instinct, she looked at the swimming chess-board and made a move haphazard. "I say--that won't do!" cried the boy. "It's mate for me in two moves. Buck up!" With a great effort, she caught the vanishing tail of her previous calculation and made a move which happened to be correct. "That's better," he said. "I hoped you wouldn't spot it. But I couldn't let you play the ass with your knight and spoil the game. Now, this demands deep consideration." He lingered a while over his move. She looked across. The pair at the next bed were talking in whispers. The girl was now sitting on the chair by the bedside, and her back hid the face of the man, though her head was near his. "There!" cried the boy triumphantly. "I beg your pardon; I didn't see it." "Oh, I say!" His finger indicated the move. With half her brain at work, she moved a pawn a cautious step. The boy's whole heart was in his offensive. He swooped a bishop triumphantly athwart the board.