"He will curse me for failing to do my duty," said he grimly. "The world will probably say that I am a benefactor to the human race, after all, and I will be called a great man because I allow him a few more weeks of agony. I may fail, of course. He may not survive the day. But no one will be justified in saying that I did not do my best to tide him over for a few weeks or months. And what a travesty it will be if I do succeed! Every one except James Marraville will praise me to the skies. My job will be done, but he will have it all to do over again,—this business of dying."
She held out her hand. Her eyes had filled with tears.
"God be with you, Braden." He took her hand in his, and for a moment looked into the swimming eyes.
"You understand everything now, don't you, Anne?" he inquired. His face was very white and serious. He released her hand.
"Yes," she answered; "I understand everything. I am glad that you have told me. It—it makes no difference; I want you to understand that, Braden."
It seemed to her that he would never speak. He was regarding her thoughtfully, evidently weighing his next words with great care.
"Three doctors know," he said at last. "They must never find out that you know."
Her eyes flashed through the tears. "I am not afraid to have the world know," she said quickly.
He shook his head, smiling sadly.
"But I am," he said. It was a long time before she grasped the full significance of this surprising admission. When, hours afterward, she came to realise all that it meant she knew that he was not thinking of himself when he said that he was afraid. He was thinking of her; he had thought of her from the first. Now she could only look puzzled and incredulous. It was not like him to be afraid of consequences.