Mrs. Engle was in the room, bending over the bed with a dampened towel to lay upon Norton’s forehead; he showed a sign of fever and his head ached constantly.  He looked about quickly as the girl came in, his hand stirring a little, offering itself.  She took it by way of greeting and sat down in the chair drawn up at his side.

“It’s good of you to come!” he said quickly, his eyes brightening.  “I was beginning to wonder if I had offended you in some way?  You see, everybody has run in but you.  A man gets spoiled when he’s laid up like this, doesn’t he?  Especially when it’s the first time he can remember when he has stuck in bed for upward of twenty-four hours running.”

Despite her familiarity with the swift ravages of illness she received a positive shock as she looked at him; she had visualized him during these latter days as she had last seen him, brown, vitally robust, the embodiment of lean, clean strength.  Now sunless inaction had set its mark in his skin which had already grown sallow; his eyes burned into her own, his hand fell weakly to the coverlet as she removed her own, his fingers plucking nervously.  And yet she summoned a cheerful smile to answer his.

“I was satisfied just in hearing that you were doing well,” she said.  “And I know that the fewer people a sick man sees the better for him.”

He moved his head restlessly back and forth on his pillow.

“Not for a man like me,” he told her.  “I’m not used to this sort of business.  Just lying here with my eyes shut or staring at the ceiling, which is worse, drives a man mad.  I told Patten to-day that if he didn’t let me see folks I’d get up and go out if I had to crawl.”

Virginia laughed, determined to be cheerful.

“I am afraid that you make a rather troublesome patient, don’t you?” she asked lightly.

Norton made no answer but lay motionless save for the constant plucking at his coverlet, his eyes moodily fixed upon the wall.  Mrs. Engle, finding the water-pitcher empty and saying that she would be back in two seconds, went out to fill it.  Promptly Norton’s eyes returned to Virginia’s face, resting there steadily.

“I’ve been dizzy and sick and half out of my head a whole lot,” he said abruptly.  “I’ve been thinking of you most of the time, dreaming about you, climbing cliffs with you. . . .”

He broke off suddenly, but did not remove his eyes from hers.  It was she who turned away, pretending to find it necessary to adjust the window-curtain.  It was impossible to sit quietly while he looked at her that way, his eyes all without warning filling with a look for any girl to read a look of glowing admiration, almost a look of pure love-making.  Norton sighed and again his head moved restlessly on his pillow.

“I’ve had time to think here of late,” he said after a little.  “More time to think than I’ve ever had before in my life.  About everything; myself and Jim Galloway and you. . . .  I have decided to send word to the district attorney to let Galloway go,” he added, again watching her.  “I am not going to appear against him and there’s no case if I don’t.”