"You must look upon it," Jocelyn Thew told her, "as one of those
strange fancies which comes sometimes to men who are living in the
shadowland of approaching death. There is one material circumstance,
however, which may make the suggestion even more disconcerting for
you. The steamer upon which we hope to sail leaves at four o'clock
to-morrow afternoon."

The idea in this new aspect was so ludicrous that she simply laughed
at him.

"My dear Mr. Jocelyn Thew!" she exclaimed. "You can't possibly be in
earnest! You mean that you expect me to leave New York with less than
twenty-four hours' notice, and go all the way to London in attendance
upon a stranger, especially in these awful times? Why, the thing isn't
reasonable--or possible! I have just consented to take the
chairmanship of a committee to form field hospitals throughout the
country, and--"

"May I interrupt for one moment?" her visitor begged.

The stream of words seemed to fall away from her lips. There was a
touch of Jocelyn Thew's other manner--perhaps more than a touch. She
looked at him and she shivered. She had seen him look like that
once before.

"Your attitude is perfectly reasonable," he continued, "but on the
other hand I must ask you to carry your thoughts back some little
time. I shall beg you to remember that I have a certain right to ask
this or any other service from you." "I admit it," she confessed
hastily, "but--there is something so outlandish in the whole