"Where's Al?"

She did not answer, but with a sudden impulse came close to him and stood
motionless. She was a slender, dark-eyed woman, in whose face was stamped
the strain and stress of living. But the fine lines and the haunted look
in the eyes were not the handiwork of mere worry. He knew whose handiwork
it was as he looked upon it, and she knew when she consulted her mirror.

"It's no use, Mary," he said. He put his hand on her shoulder. "We've
tried everything. It's a wretched business, I know, but what else can we
do? You've failed. Doctor Bodineau's all that's left."

"If I had another chance . . . " she began falteringly.

"We've threshed that all out," he answered harshly. "You've got to buck
up, now. You know what conclusion we arrived at. You know you haven't the
ghost of a hope in another chance."

She shook her head. "I know it. But it is terrible, the thought of his
going away to fight it out alone."

"He won't be alone. There's Doctor Bodineau. And besides, it's a
beautiful place."

She remained silent.

"It is the only thing," he said.

"It is the only thing," she repeated mechanically.