“I could not sleep,” said she, “because I am so worried over Andrew Denton.”

“That is foolish, my dear,” answered Mr. Merrick, affectionately patting the hand she laid in his.  “The doctor says poor Denton cannot recover.  If you’re going to take to heart all the sad incidents we encounter on this hospital ship, it will not only ruin your usefulness but destroy your happiness.”

“Exactly so,” agreed Gys, coming into the salon in time to overhear this remark.  “A nurse should be sympathetic, but impersonally so.”

“Denton has been married but five months,” said Patsy.  “I have seen his wife’s picture—­she’s a dear little girl!—­and her letters to him are full of love and longing.  She doesn’t know, of course, of his—­his accident—­or that he—­he—­” Her voice broke with a sob she could not repress.

“M-m,” purred Uncle John; “where does she live, this young wife?”

“At Charleroi.”

“Well; the Germans are there.”

“Yes, Uncle.  But don’t you suppose they would let her come to see her dying husband?”

“A young girl, unprotected?  Would it be—­safe?”

“The Germans,” remarked Captain Carg from his end of the table, “are very decent people.”

“Ahem!” said Uncle John.

“Some of them, I’ve no doubt, are quite respectable,” observed Ajo; “but from all reports the rank and file, in war time, are—­rather unpleasant to meet.”

“Precisely,” agreed Uncle John.  “I think, Patsy dear, it will be best to leave this Belgian girl in ignorance of her husband’s fate.”

“I, myself, have a wife,” quoth little Maurie, with smug assurance, “but she is not worrying about me, wherever she may be; nor do I feel especial anxiety for Clarette.  A woman takes what comes—­especially if she is obliged to.”

Patsy regarded him indignantly.

“There are many kinds of women,” she began.

“Thank heaven!” exclaimed Maurie, and then she realized how futile it was to argue with him.

A little later she walked on deck with Uncle John and pleaded her cause earnestly.  It was said by those who knew him well that the kindly little gentleman was never able to refuse Patsy anything for long, and he was himself so well aware of this weakness that he made a supreme effort to resist her on this occasion.

“You and I,” said she, “would have no trouble in passing the German lines.  We are strictly neutral, you know, we Americans, and our passports and the Red Cross will take us anywhere in safety.”

“It won’t do, my dear,” he replied.  “You’ve already been in danger enough for one war.  I shudder even now as I think of those bullets and shells at Nieuport.”

“But we can pass through at some place where they are not fighting.”

“Show me such a place!”

“And distances are very small in this part of the Continent.  We could get to Charleroi in a day, and return the next day with Mrs. Denton.”