explained brusquely, as if to reconcile his unusual procedure with
business-like methods.

"But I should operate," he continued; "I shall operate unless there are
objections--unless you object."

His customary imperious manner was struggling with a special feeling for
this woman before him. She did not reply, but waited to hear where her part
might come in. Her eyes did not fall from his face.

"There's a chance," the surgeon went on, "that a certain operation now will
bring him around all right. But to-morrow will be too late."

His words thus far had something foolish in them, and her eyes seemed to
say so. If it was the only chance, and his custom was to operate in such
cases,--if he would have operated had she not been there, why did he go
through this explanation?

"There may be----complications in his recovery," he said at last, in low
tones. "The recovery may not be complete."

She did not seem to understand, and the surgeon frowned at his failure,
after wrenching from himself this frankness. The idea, the personal idea
that he had had to put out of his mind so often in operating in hospital
cases,--that it made little difference whether, indeed, it might be a great
deal wiser if the operation turned out fatally,--possessed his mind. Could
she be realizing that, too, in her obstinate silence? He tried another
explanation.

"If we do not operate, he will probably have a few hours of