“Oh, of course,” Dinah said.  “Don’t hurry back!”

The nurse smiled and flitted away into the golden evening sunlight.

Dinah turned her head towards her silent companion.  “I wonder,” she said, “if I could learn to be a nurse.”

He blew a cloud of smoke into the air.  “Are you still worrying about the future?” he said.

“I don’t know that I am exactly worrying,” she made low reply.  “But I shall have to decide about it very soon.”

Scott was silent for a space while he finished his cigarette.  Then at last slowly, haltingly, he spoke.  “Dinah,—­I have been thinking about the future too.  If I touch upon anything that hurts you, you must stop me, and I will not say another word.  But, child, it seems to me that we shall both be—­rather lost—­when Isabel is gone.  I wonder—­would it shock you very much—­if I suggested to you—­as a solution of the difficulty—­that we should some day in the future enter into partnership together?”

He spoke with obvious effort; his hands were gripped upon the arms of his chair.  The wicker creaked in the strain of his grasp, but he himself remained lying back with eyes half-closed in compulsory inaction.

Dinah also sat absolutely still.  If his words amazed her, she gave no sign.  Only the wistfulness about her mouth deepened as she made answer below her breath.  “It—­is just like you to suggest such a thing; but—­it is quite impossible.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her very steadily and kindly.  “Quite?” he said.

She bent her head, swiftly lowering her own.  “Yes—­thank you a million times—­quite.”

“Even if I promise never to make love to you?” he said, his voice half-quizzical, half-tender.

She put out a trembling hand and laid it on his arm.  “Oh,
Scott,—­it—­isn’t that!”

He took the hand and held it.  “My dear, don’t cry!” he urged gently.  “I knew you wouldn’t have me really.  I only thought I would just place myself completely at your disposal in case—­some day—­you might be willing to give me the chance to serve you in any capacity whatever.  There!  It is over.  We are as we were—­friends.”

He smiled at her with the words, and after a moment stooped and lightly touched her fingers with his lips.

“Come!” he said gently.  “I haven’t frightened you anyway.  Have I?”

“No,” she whispered.

His hand clasped hers for a second or two longer, then quietly let it go.  “Don’t be distressed!” he said, “I will never do it again.  I am now—­and always—­your trusty friend.”

And with that he rose in his slow way, paused to light another cigarette, smiled again upon her, and softly went indoors.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE LAST SUMMONS