Phyllis smiled tenderly.
"How?" she inquired. "Help? You would only stay around worrying and miserable. You could do no good, dear. Besides——"
"Besides?"
"Your duty lies—elsewhere."
"My duty lies here. My first duty is to my—mother!"
The man's denial came with a deep thrill of passion.
"Does it, dear?" Phyllis said gently. "I think not—yet." Then she suddenly abandoned herself to all that was in her heart for this man's good, and her voice was deep with her own emotion. "I tell you you can't stay. You surely can't. See, there's nothing for you to do around. I shall send word to Mr. Hendrie, at once. The doctor is here, and the nurses. You must go. Go right about your business. Frank, Frank, just fix it in your mind right away, there's no two roads of duty. Your bond is given. Your future is bound right up in helping folks who need your help. You cannot draw back just—just because your—mother—is sick. To do that is just yourself claiming you. Your pledge is to the workers now, and you must fulfill it. I would have you do this, sure. Say, when you're through, when you've fulfilled your duty, then it's time to come around and think of those you just love—for yourself. Frank, I'd just love to have you stay around, but I'd rather you do the duty you set yourself—now."
The man stared incredulously up into her face. He was trying to fathom the meaning of this sudden change of attitude toward the work he was engaged upon. Even at such a moment he could not help remembering how passionately she had protested against it in Toronto.
"You—you, Phyl, tell me to—go on? You refuse me when I implore you to let me remain with Mon?"
The girl looked down at him with her wise little smile.