"You are so pale. Do look at Ailsa Paige. I am completely
enamoured of her. Did you ever see such a lovely creature in all
your life? And she is very young but very wise. She knows useful
and charitable things--like nursing the sick, and dressing
injuries, and her own hats. And she actually served a whole year
in the horrible city hospital! Wasn't it brave of her!"

Berkley swayed forward to look at Ailsa Paige. He began to be
tormented again by the feverish idea that she resembled the girl
pictures of his mother. Nor could he rid himself of the fantastic
impression. In the growing unreality of it all, in the distorted
outlines of a world gone topsy-turvy, amid the deadly blurr of
things material and mental, Ailsa Paige's face alone remained
strangely clear. And, scarcely knowing what he was saying, he
leaned forward to her shoulder again.

"There was only one other like you," he said. Mrs. Paige turned
slowly and looked at him, but the quiet rebuke in her eyes remained
unuttered.

"Be more genuine with me," she said gently. "I am worth it, Mr.
Berkley."

Then, suddenly there seemed to run a pale flash through his brain,

"Yes," he said in an altered voice, "you are worth it. . . . Don't
drive me away from you just yet."

"Drive you away?" in soft concern. "I did not mean----"