Doctor Jack paced back and forth on the veranda with his hands in his pockets. "The darkly mysterious ways of the ever-feminine are wonderful beyond the power of words to portray. Apparently you've had to choose between your hand and hers."
"I'm not sure," returned Allison, thoughtfully, "that I wouldn't rather have hers than mine."
"Brace up, old man. Get well and go after her. The world isn't big enough to keep a man away from the woman he wants."
"But," answered Allison, dejectedly, "she doesn't care for me. It was only womanly pity, and now that I don't need that, I've lost her."
"She doesn't care for you!" repeated the Doctor. "Why, man, how can you sit there and tell a lie like that? Of course she cares!"
Allison turned to look at him in astonishment. "It isn't possible!"
"Isn't it? Then I don't know anything about human nature, though I must confess I'm not up much on the feminine part of it. How long—"
"Just since the accident. The girl I was going to marry let me release her. She didn't want a cripple, you know."
"And Miss Bernard did, and you've disappointed her?"
"Something like that."