avoiding draughts, and trying to keep their feet dry. If he was going to
die, he wanted to do it with a rush. He'd be hanged if he'd cut out
smoking, drinking, and running with the boys, just to lie on his back for
a year and perhaps die at the end of it!

Nance faced the bitter crisis with him, whipping up his courage,
strengthening his weak will, nerving him for combat. When she left him
an hour later, with his face buried in the pillow and his hands locked
above his head, he had promised to submit to the doctor's advice on the
one condition that she would go home with him and start him on that fight
for life that was to tax all his strength and patience and self-control.




CHAPTER XXX

HER FIRST CASE


October hovered over Kentucky that year in a golden halo of enchantment.
The beech-trees ran the gamut of glory, and every shrub and weed had its
hour of transient splendor. A soft haze from burning brush lent the world
a sense of mystery and immensity. Day after day on the south porch at
Hillcrest Mac Clarke lay propped with cushions on a wicker couch, while
Nance Molloy sat beside him, and all about them was a stir of whispering,
dancing, falling leaves. The hillside was carpeted with them, the brook
below the pergola was strewn with bits of color, while overhead the warm
sunshine filtered through canopies of russet and crimson and green.