“I don’t mean that we can speak with any certainty yet, but that is the fear,” repeated Leo.
“Can nothing be done—nothing?” asked Joan, despairingly.
Leo’s answer was in two words only.
“Yes—prayer.”
“Prayer doesn’t always bring the thing one wants,” murmured Joan.
“It—or something better.”
“There can’t be anything better. There could not be. Oh, you don’t know what he is!” half-sobbed Joan. “There is nobody like him in all the world. Please tell the man to turn. I want to go back to father.”
Leo obeyed, and she sat leaning forward, with a look of eager longing and sorrow.
“Remember, Joan, things are not hopeless,” he said.
Joan was silent till they had almost reached the hotel. Then she said, with downcast eyes—“Thank you very much. You have been very good to me. And I think it is just a little comfort to know how much you feel it all too. Leo, please do pray that father may soon be perfectly well.”