"Not high enough, dear," he answered, caressingly. "Some day I'll
take you over to Berlin or Vienna, or one of those wonderful places.
We'll leave Isaac to grub along and sow red fire in Hyde Park. We'll
find the doctors. We shall teach you to walk again without that
stick. No more gloominess, please."

She pressed his hand tightly.

"Dear Arnold!" she whispered softly.

"Turn around and watch the river with me, little one," he begged.
"See the lights on the barges, how slowly they move. What is there
behind that one, I wonder?"

Her eyes followed his finger without enthusiasm.

"I can't look out of the room to-night, Arnold," she said. "The
fancies won't come. Promise me one thing."

"I promise," he agreed.

"Tell me everything--don't keep anything back."

"On my honor," he declared, smiling. "I will bring the menu of the
dinner, if there is one, and a photograph of Mrs. Cheesemonger if I
can steal it. Now I am going to help you back into your room."

"Don't bother," she begged. "Open the door and I can get there quite
easily."