But she was still without definite suspicions when Ella, upon the entrance of Chow Yew with Mr. Kenneth’s letters and the new magazines, jumped up gaily, and said: 

“Here, Sue!  Will you run up with these to Ken—­and take these violets, too?”

She put the magazines in Susan’s hands, and added a great bunch of dewy wet violets that had been lying on the table.  Susan, really glad to escape from the over-charged atmosphere of the room, willingly went on her way.

Kenneth was sitting up to-day, very white, very haggard,—­clean-shaven and hollow-eyed, and somehow very pitiful.  He smiled at Susan, as she came in, and laid a thin hand on a chair by the bed.  Susan sat down, and as she did so the watching nurse went out.

“Well, had you ordered a pillow of violets with shaky doves?” he asked, in a hoarse thin echo of his old voice.  “No, but I guess you were pretty sick,” the girl said soberly.  “How goes it to-day?”

“Oh, fine!” he answered hardily, “as soon as I am over the ether I’ll feel like a fighting cock!  Hudson talked a good deal with his mouth,” said Kenneth coughing.  “But the rotten thing about me, Susan,” he went on, “is that I can’t booze,—­I really can’t do it!  Consequently, when some old fellow like that gets a chance at me, he thinks he ought to scare me to death!” He sank back, tired from coughing.  “But I’m all right!” he finished, comfortably, “I’ll be alright again after a while.”

“Well, but now, honestly, from now on—–­” Susan began, timidly but eagerly, “won’t you truly try—­”

“Oh, sure!” he said simply.  “I promised.  I’m going to cut it out, all of it.  I’m done.  I don’t mean to say that I’ve ever been a patch on some of the others,” said Kenneth.  “Lord, you ought to see some of the men who really drink!  At the same time, I’ve had enough.  It’s me to the simple joys of country life—­I’m going to try farming.  But first they want me to try France for awhile, and then take this German treatment, whatever it is.  Hudson wants me to get off by the first of the year.”

“Oh, really!  France!” Susan’s eyes sparkled.  “Oh, aren’t you wild!”

“I’m not so crazy about it.  Not Paris, you know, but some dinky resort.”

“Oh, but fancy the ocean trip—­and meeting the village people—­and New York!” Susan exclaimed.  “I think every instant of traveling would be a joy!” And the vision of herself in all these places, with Stephen Bocqueraz as interpreter, wrung her heart with longing.

Kenneth was watching her closely.  A dull red color had crept into his face.

“Well, why don’t you come?” he laughed awkwardly.

Something in his tone made Susan color uncomfortably too.

“That did sound as if I were asking myself along!” she smiled.

“Oh, no, it didn’t!” he reassured her.  “But—­but I mean it.  Why don’t you come?”

They were looking steadily at each other now.  Susan tried to laugh.