"One cannot deny valor," she said coolly. "It is the greatest thing in the world."
She wanted no misunderstandings. She only wanted Harry Horton to know that love was not for her or for him. The fakir under the bed clothes understood. She preferred to speak of valor. Valor! If she only knew!
Jim Horton gathered courage. If he wasn't to tell the truth he would have to play his part.
"Everybody is brave—out there," he said, with a gesture.
"But not brave enough for mention," said Quinlevin genially. "It won't do, Harry boy. A hero ye were and a hero ye'll remain."
Horton felt the girl's calm gaze upon his face.
"I'm so glad you've made good, Harry. I am. And I want you to believe it."
"Thanks," he muttered.
Why did she gaze at him so steadily? It almost seemed as though she had read his secret. He hoped that she had. It would have simplified things enormously. But she turned away with a smile.
"You're to come to us, of course, as soon as they let you out," she said quietly.