“She wrote in her letter that she’d heard of a place where consumptives were taken in and treated free,” Win went on when he paused.  “But she wouldn’t tell me where it was.  And Dr. Marlow says there is nothing of the sort—–­”

“Oh, he can’t have read the newspapers these last few days.  It’s been open a week.”

“Then you know about it?”

“Yes.  You see—­it’s a sort of—­friend of mine who’s started the scheme.  The house is not very big yet.  But he’ll enlarge it if it makes a success.”

“Quite free?”

“Yes.  Anybody can come and be examined by the doctor.  No case will be refused while there’s room.  I—­my friend lost his dearest friend years ago—­a boy of his own age then—­from consumption.  It almost broke his heart.  And he made up his mind that when he grew up and had a little money of his own, he’d start one of those open-air places in the country free.”

“I believe you’re speaking of yourself!” exclaimed Win, her face lighting.  Then Ena Rolls’s brother couldn’t be all bad!

“Well, I’m in the business, too.  This must be the place the girl is going to.  She shall be cured, I promise you.  And when she’s well she shall have work in the country to keep her strong and make her happy.  Will that please you?”

“Yes,” Win answered.  “But—­it doesn’t please me to feel you’re doing it for that reason.”

“I’m not.  Only partly, at least.  I’m thankful for the chance to help.  And this shan’t be all.  There’ll be other ways.  Please don’t think too badly of me, Miss Child.  I trusted my father, as he wished.  And he trusts Mr. Croft—­too completely, I fear.”

Again Win was silent.  She had heard things about Peter Rolls, Sr., which made her fancy that he was not a man to trust any one but himself.  And she did not yet dare to trust his son.  The look was coming back into his eyes which made her remember that he was a man like other men.  Yet it was hard not to trust him!  And because it was so hard she grew afraid.

“Give me the address of that convalescent home,” she broke her own silence by saying.  “I want to write to my friend, Sadie Kirk—­and go to see her—­if she’s really there.  Mr. Rolls, I shall bless you if she is cured.”

Petro had taken out his cardcase and was writing.

“Then, sooner or later, I shall have my blessing,” he said quietly.  “Couldn’t you give me just a small first instalment of it now?  Couldn’t you tell me what changed you toward me on the ship?  Had it anything to do with my family—­any gossip you heard?”

“In a way, yes.  But I can’t possibly tell you.  Please don’t ask me.”

“I won’t.  But give me some hope that I can live it down.  You see, I can’t spare you out of my life.  I had you in it only a few days.  Yet those days have made all the difference.”

Win stiffened.