and less frequently. She was always full of engagements and seldom had a
moment to spare for the society of this steady friend of hers. And Mrs.
Ralston never sought her out. It was not her way. She was ready for all,
but she intruded upon none.

Mrs. Ralston's affection for Stella had become very deep. There was
between them a sympathy that was beyond words. They understood each
other.

As the wet season drew on, their companionship became more and more
intimate though their spoken confidences were few. Mrs. Ralston never
asked for confidences though she probably received more than any other
woman in the station.

It was on a day in September of drifting clouds and unbroken rain that
Stella spoke at length of a resolution that had been gradually forming
in her mind. She found no difficulty in speaking; in fact it seemed the
natural thing to do. And she felt even as she gave utterance to the
words that Mrs. Ralston already knew their import.

"Mary," she said, "after Christmas I am going back to England."

Mrs. Ralston betrayed no surprise. She was in the midst of an elaborate
darn in the heel of a silk sock. She looked across at Stella gravely.

"And when you get there, my dear?" she said.

"I shall find some work to do." Stella spoke with the decision of one
who gives utterance to the result of careful thought. "I think I shall
go in for hospital training. It is hard work, I know; but I am strong. I