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 And then in the news item below:

She stopped reading and put the paper down.

“Poor Daddy!” she whispered. “O Sir John, will you let him know?”

“I have already done so, child. He knows that you are safe.” And then with a laugh, “The five thousand pounds—I think are mine. I need a new hospital corps.”

“Oh, he’ll give it, I’m sure.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

He took her hand and rose in the act of dismissal. “We have supper at six. I hope you will be able to join us.”

“But, General” She paused at the door.

He smiled at her softly.

“If all goes well—you shall see him tomorrow.”

She colored prettily. Everyone seemed to know, but she didn’t care. The world, in spite of its terrors, was a garden of roses to Doris.

She did not see Cyril the next day or the one following. His temperature had risen, and while the danger of a relapse was not acute, they thought it safer that she be kept away. She had worried, fearing the worst, but the frankness of the head surgeon reassured her. The bullet had drilled through him, just scraping the lung. He would recover. But why take a chance of complication when all was going well? There was no