“In that case, I had better say good night too,” said Scott, rising.

“Oh no,” said Dinah, with her quick smile.  “You can come in and say good night to me afterwards—­when I’m in bed.  Can’t he, Isabel?”

She had fallen into the habit of calling Isabel by her Christian name from hearing Scott use it.  It had begun almost in delirium, and now it came so naturally that she never dreamed of reverting to the more formal mode of address.

Scott smiled in his quiet fashion, and turned to join his brother.  “I will with pleasure,” he said.

Eustace threw a mocking glance backwards.  “It seems that philosophers rush in where mere ordinary males fear to tread,” he observed.  “Stumpy, allow me to congratulate you on your privileges!”

“Thanks, old chap!” Scott made answer in his tired voice.  “But there is no occasion for the ordinary male to envy me my compensations.”

“What did he mean by that?” said Dinah, as the door closed.

Isabel moved to her side and sat down on the edge of the couch.  “Scott is very lonely, little one,” she said.

“Is he?” said Dinah, wonderingly.  “But—­surely he must have lots of friends.  He’s such a dear.”

Isabel smiled at her rather sadly.  “Yes, everyone who knows him thinks that.”

“Everyone must love him,” protested Dinah.  “Who could help it?”

“I wonder,” said Isabel slowly, “if he will ever meet anyone who will love him best of all.”

Dinah was suddenly conscious of a rush of blood to her face.  She knew not wherefore, but she felt it beat in her temples and sing in her ears.  “Oh, surely—­surely!” she stammered in confusion.

Isabel looked beyond her.  “You know, Dinah,” she said, her voice very low, “Scott is a man with an almost infinite greatness of soul.  I don’t know if you realize it.  I have thought sometimes that you did.  But there are very few—­very few—­who do.”

“I know he is great,” whispered Dinah.  “I told him so almost—­almost the first time I saw him.”

Isabel’s smile was very tender.  She stooped and gathered Dinah to her bosom.  “Oh, my dear,” she murmured, “never prefer the tinsel to the true gold!  He is far, far the greatest man I know.  And you—­you will never meet a greater.”

Dinah clung to her in quick responsiveness.  Her strange agitation was subsiding, but she could feel the blood yet pulsing in her veins.  “I know it,” she whispered.  “I am sure of it.  He is very much to you, dear, isn’t he?”

“For years he has been my all,” Isabel said.  “Listen a moment!  I will tell you something.  In the first dreadful days of my illness, I was crazy with trouble, and—­and they bound me to keep me from violence.  I have never forgotten it.  I never shall.  Then—­he came.  He was very young at that time, only twenty-three.  He had his life before him, and mine—­mine was practically over.  Yet he gave up everything—­everything