"I don't think money makes for greatness," she said.

"Don't you?" he queried drily. "I do! Come admit, woman, that you're
sorry _now_ you didn't let Betty take the risk?"

"I'm not at all sorry--" she cried. "It was all his fault. He was such
a strange, rough, violent young fellow!"

The words trembled on the old doctor's lips--"Perhaps it will all come
right now!" But he checked himself, for in his heart of hearts he did
not in the least believe that it would all come right. He knew well
enough that Godfrey Radmore, after that dramatic exit to Australia, had
cut himself clean off from all his friends. He was coming back now as
that wonderful thing to most people--a millionaire. Was it likely, so
the worldly-wise old doctor asked himself, that a man whose whole
circumstances had so changed, ever gave a thought to that old boyish love
affair with Betty Tosswill?--violent, piteous and painful as the affair
had been. But had Betty forgotten? About that the doctor had his doubts,
but he kept them strictly to himself.

He changed the subject abruptly. "It isn't scarlet fever at the
Mortons--only a bit of a red rash. I thought you'd like to know.

"It's good of you to have come and told me," she exclaimed. "I confess
I did feel anxious, for Timmy was there the whole of the day before
yesterday."

"Ah! and how's me little friend?"