He was alone.  She went to his side and kissed him.

His hands caught hers, and she marvelled at the strength of his grip. 
“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’ve had a letter from Capper.”

She felt the blood ebb suddenly from her face.  She stood a moment in silence, then sat down and pressed his hand close against her heart.

“What does he say?” she asked.

He looked at her oddly for a few seconds.  Then:  “It’s good news, dear,” he said.  “You mustn’t let it scare you.”

She began to smile, though her lips were trembling.  “No, of course not. 
Tell me what he says.”

He gave her the letter and she read.  Capper wrote that he had received an excellent report from Dr. Randal of his patient’s progress, that he expected to be in England in about a fortnight and would come down himself to ascertain if the time for the second operation had arrived.  He wrote in a cheery strain, and at the end of the letter was a postscript:  “Have you taken my advice yet with regard to la femme?”

“An ancient joke,” explained Lucas with a smile.  “He told me long ago that I should need a woman’s help to pull me through.  And”—­his voice dropped—­“I guess he was right.”

The colour came back to her face.  She pressed his hand without speaking.

“I shouldn’t be here now but for you, Anne,” he said, his blue eyes watching her.  “I sometimes think it must have been a mortal strain upon you.  Have you felt it so very badly, I wonder?”

She met his look with eyes grown misty.  “Luke—­my dearest—­you have done far greater things for me.  You have kept me from starvation.  You have no idea what you are to me.”

The words came brokenly.  She checked a sudden sob and, rising, moved to the window.

Lucas lay silent, but his eyes watched her with a great tenderness.

When she came back to him she was smiling.  “Have you ever begun to think of what you will do when you are well?” she said.

“I am thinking of it always,” he answered.  “I make wonderful pictures for myself sometimes.  You are the central figure of them all.”

She clasped his hand again in hers.  “Lucas,” she said, “will you take me away?”

“Yes, dear,” he said.

“Far away from anywhere I have ever been before?” Her voice shook a little.  “I want to begin life over again where everything is new.”

A certain shrewdness gleamed in the steady eyes that watched her, but it was mingled with the utmost kindness.

“I guess I’d better show you my best picture right now,” he said.  “It’s got a steam yacht in it, and a state cabin fit for a queen.  And it goes rocking around the world, looking for the Happy Islands.  I guess we shall find them some day, sweetheart—­maybe sooner than we think.”

“Ah, yes,” she said.  “We won’t stop looking till we do.  How soon shall we start, Luke?”

He answered her with a smile, but there was a thrill of deep feeling in his words.  “Just as soon as I can stand on my feet like any other man, Anne, and hold the woman I love in my arms.”