In pity for her he made to put his arm about her. "Don't be a goose,
Bella," he said, but she flung his hand from her. "Why does it make
you so sore and angry?" he asked wistfully. "Hugh is not pretty to
look at, but perhaps Sylvie sees him better than we do--in a way;
and if she learns to love him while she's blind, then, when she sees
him, if she ever sees him--"

"Chances are she never will. If her eyes don't get better soon, they
likely never will."

"Isn't it horrible?"

"You don't seem to think so. So long's she has Hugh to paint pictures
for her, what does she need eyes for? What's to come of it, Pete?
She's falling in love with the fine figure of a hero he's made her
believe he is. But how can he marry her?"

"Couldn't he go off somewhere else and marry her and start again?
Honest, I think if Hugh had some one who thought he was a god, he'd
likely enough be one. He--he lives by--illusion--isn't that the word?
It's kind of easy to be noble when some one you love believes you
to be, isn't it? That's Hugh; he--"

Bella threw down her rag, turned fiercely upon him and gripped his
shoulders.

"Are you a man or a child?" she said. "You love this girl yourself!"

"No!" he cried and broke from her and went limping out into the frosty