"Yes," she wrote, at Dr. Sanford's dictation. "Peter has got a little house for us and permission to stay near you."
"This is just simply HAPPINESS"—Phil spelled out the word in capitals. "Tell Peter he is certainly some arranger. Isn't he going to come and see me, too?"
Peter was swallowing hard—a habit that he had formed since he had arrived at the hospital. He advanced to Phil's side.
"Peter is here," Helen wrote.
Phil's hand went out, searching in the darkness, and Peter's leapt toward it and the two clasped in a firm, prolonged grip.
"Shall I tell him that every cent I have is his, when he expected nothing?" Peter put the question to Helen.
She knew only the vague outline of their story, yet understood the principle involved, and she hesitated. Peter studied her face with his shrewd glance.
"I guess not," he said. "He's fighting for something worth more than three millions and money won't make a fellow of Phil's calibre fight any harder. I guess it would be kind of cheap to do it now. I'll wait till he can see me, or till we know that he is not going to——"
"He will!" put in Helen sharply.
"Say," Peter said admiringly, "they ought to put you in command of an army corps out there! You've got the kind of spirit that would break the line."