It flashed upon him for an instant that the reality was disappointing, that this was not all as he had dreamed it would be, but pride bade him conceal his disappointment as best he could.

“You were hurt,” he said, tenderly.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes.  I was hurt quite a good deal.”

“But you’re all right now, and I’m so glad!”

“Thank you,” she answered, listlessly.

Her eyes roved about the room, observing every detail of furniture and ornament.  It was old-fashioned, and in a way queer, she thought.  She was glad that she would never have to live there.

Allison watched her eagerly.  Like a wayfarer in the desert thirsting for water, he longed for her tenderness; for one unsought kiss, even in farewell.  His pride sustained him no longer.  “Dear,” he pleaded, like the veriest beggar; “won’t you kiss me just once?”

Isabel hesitated.  “It isn’t proper,” she murmured, “now that we are no longer engaged.  I’m sorry you got hurt,” she added, as an afterthought.

Allison’s face paled suddenly.  So, she accepted her release!  Then eager justification of her made him wonder if by any chance she could have misunderstood.

“Dearest,” he said, with cold lips, “did you think for a single instant that I wanted to release you?  I did it because it was the only thing an honourable man could do and I wouldn’t let pity for me hold you to a promise made in love.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want you.  I’ve wanted you every day and every hour.  Only God knows how I’ve wanted you and shall want you all the rest of my life, unless—­”

He paused, hoping, for the space of a heartbeat, that the dream might come true.

But Isabel did not move from her chair.  She surveyed the opposite wall for a few moments before she spoke.  “It was honourable,” she said, in a more friendly tone.  “Of course it was the only thing you could do.”

“Of course,” he echoed, bitterly.

Isabel rose, went to the foot of the bed, and leaned upon it, facing him.  “I’m afraid I’ve stayed too long,” she said.  “I think I’d better go.  I can wait downstairs for the carriage.”

Allison did not answer.  His eyes burned strangely in his white face, making her vaguely uncomfortable and afraid.  She turned the diamond ring upon her finger and slowly slipped it off.

“I suppose I must give this back,” she said, reluctantly.  “I mustn’t wear it now.”

“Why not?” he asked huskily.

“Because it doesn’t mean anything—­now.”

“It never did.  Keep it, Isabel.”

“Thank you,” she said, calmly, putting it back, but on the middle finger.  “I must go now.  I hope you’ll get along all right.”

“Wait just a minute, please.”  He rang a bell that was on a table within his reach, and the nurse came in.  “Please bring me my violin.”

Isabel turned to the door but was held back by a peremptory command.  “Wait!”