“I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. Then instantly she got out of bed and proceeded to dress. ‘Looks like it. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. “Curious case—and sets one thinking. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. " "You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely recovering his cheerfulness of look. ” There was silence between them.
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