She motioned him to a chair, and drooped weakly on to the shiny couch.
"I am not going to die," she muttered. "Your sympathy has been thrown away—I'm a fraud."
In the breathless pause he felt deafened by the thudding of his heart.
"He has given you hope?"
"He said, 'Bosh!' I told him what the doctor told me in Duluth. He said, 'Bosh!' One lung isn't quite sound, that's all; I may live to be eighty."
"O dear God!" said Heriot slowly, "I thank You!"
She gave a short laugh, harsh and bitter.
"I always posed. My last pose was as a dying woman!"
"Mamie," he said firmly—he went across to her and sat down by her side—"Mamie, I love you. I want you to come back to me, my darling. My life's no good without you, and I want you for my wife again. Will you come?"
He heard her catch her breath; she could not speak. He took her hands, and drew her to him. Their lips clung together, and presently he felt tears on his cheek.