Barbara looked so worn and fragile these days. The roundness had gone from her cheeks as well as their color, her eyes and lips rarely smiled. It would only trouble her further to have him cast his burden upon her. For Barbara would, of course, be sorry to cause him unhappiness. So Dick decided to wait until serener times.
One afternoon, however, the opportunity for entrusting one of his secrets arrived.
For the past three days Eugenia had been growing continuously weaker. The crisis of her disease had passed and her fever was not so high. But her weakness had become a more dangerous symptom.
About four o'clock Dick drove out to the house in the woods with Dr. Mason, who was one of the physicians devoting himself to Eugenia's case.
He did not go indoors, but asked that one of the three American Red Cross girls be sent out to speak to him. It was a cold afternoon, yet the sun was shining and Dick felt that the fresh air would be of benefit. No matter which of the three girls was free to join him, they could walk up and down in the yard for a few minutes. The suspense of waiting for Dr. Mason's verdict would be less severe outdoors than shut up inside.
But although Dick walked up and down the front porch for quite ten minutes, no one appeared. Either Dr. Mason had forgotten to deliver his message or else the girls were too busy or too nervous to leave the house.
Dick finally grew weary of the veranda as a place for a promenade. A little later some one would be sure to come out to him, and in the meantime he would walk a short distance into the woods.
A few yards along the path the young man stumbled across Barbara.
She was wearing her gray blue nursing cape and was sitting upon a log. She looked so tiny and was huddled so close that Dick somehow thought of a little gray squirrel.
Barbara was too engrossed in her thoughts to hear him until he was almost upon her. Then Dick grew frightened, because instead of speaking she jumped to her feet and put up her hand to her throat as if she were choking.