"Easier for you, too?"

He looked at her. "Do I have to speak the truth?"

"You must. If you would rather be there—"

"I would rather be as near you as I can stay. There's no use denying that. But Van Horn wants me at the hospital."

"Is he to look after you?"

"Yes. Queer, isn't it? But he wants the job. No," at the unspoken question in her face, "it wasn't Van. But he came in just as the trouble began to show and—well, you know we're the best of friends now, and I think I'd rather have him—and Buller, good old Buller—than anybody else."

"Oh, but you won't need them both?" she cried, and then bit her lip.

"Of course not. But you know how the profession are—if one of them gets down they all fall over one another to offer their services."

"They may all offer them, but they will have to come to you. You are going to stay at home. You shall have the big guest room—made as you want it. Just tell me what to do—"

"You may as well strip it," he told her quietly. "And—Len, I'd rather be right there than anywhere else in the world. I think, when it's ready, I'll just go to bed. I'd bluff a bit longer if I could, but—perhaps—"