“Certainly not,” he said, and took her hand into his own.

The last thing she knew was the steady pressure of his fingers on her pulse.

From that time her strength began very slowly to return.  The suffering grew less and less intense, till at last it visited her only when she tried to think.  And this she was sternly forbidden to do by Dr. Jim, whose word was law.

She was like a little child in those days, conscious only of the passing moment, although even then at the back of her mind she was aware of a monstrous shadow that was never wholly absent day or night.  Her father and the nurse were the only people she saw during those early days, and she came to watch for the former’s coming with a child’s eager impatience.

“I dreamed about Nick last night,” she told him one morning.  “I wish he would come home, don’t you?”

“What do you want Nick for?” he said, possessing himself of her wrist as usual.

“I don’t know,” she said, knitting her brows.  “But it’s such a long while since he went away.”

He laid his hand on her forehead, and smoothed the lines away.  “If you’re a good girl,” he said, “you shall go and stay with Nick at Redlands when you are well enough.”

She looked up at him with puzzled eyes.  “I thought Nick was in India, Daddy.”

“He was,” said Dr. Jim.  “But he has come back.”

“Then he is at Redlands?” she asked eagerly.

He met her look with his black brows drawn in a formidable frown.  “Go slow!” he said.  “Yes, he is staying at Redlands.”

“Oh, may he come and see me?” she begged.

Dr. Jim considered the point.  “If you will promise to keep very quiet,” he said finally, “I will let you see him for five minutes only.”

“Now?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes, now,” said Dr. Jim.

He rose with the words and went out of the room, leaving her struggling to fulfil his condition.

She thought he would return to satisfy himself on this point, but he did not.  When the door opened again it was to admit Nick alone.

She held out her arms to him, and in a second he was beside her, holding her fast.

“My poor little chicken!” he said, and though there seemed to be a laugh in his voice she fancied he was in some fashion more moved than she.

“They’ve cut off all my hair, Nick,” she said.  “That’s the worst of scarlet fever, isn’t it?”

“Hair will grow again, sweetheart,” he said.  “At least, yours will.  Mine won’t.  I’m going as bald as a coot.”

They laughed together over this calamity which was becoming undeniably obvious.

“You never did have much thatch, did you, Nick?” she said.  “And I suppose India has spoilt what little you had.”

“It’s nice of you not to set it down to advancing years,” said Nick.  “Muriel does.”

“Muriel?  Have you seen her lately?”

“This morning,” said Nick.