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o’clock she decided she would walk across the paddock to the cottage.

Rodney’s bed was drawn close to the open window of one of the front rooms, looking out on to the veranda, and through the curtain of creepers he saw Ann as she came up from the gate, across the neglected, overgrown garden.

“Hospital visiting?” he asked, as she hesitated on the doorstep.

“Yes,” she answered, smiling at him. “May I come in?”

“Of course. You’ve been a long time making up your mind to call and inquire after my health.”

“I did inquire.”

“I don’t count messages. I like personal inquiries.”

“You’ve had so many visitors, I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

She entered the little passage, and turned in at the open door.

“I want to see everybody,” he returned. “What’s the good of being on the sick-list if you don’t get a little attention?”

“You’ve had too much, that’s quite evident. You’re thoroughly spoilt.”

“Not nearly spoilt enough,” he returned. “Can you find a chair somewhere?”

She knew that missing the tournament had been a very great disappointment to him, and that this period of enforced rest must be galling to any one of such an active temperament. He was not whining over it however. With a warm little glow at her heart she realized that she had not been mistaken in her estimate of him. He had the best sort of courage. He wouldn’t admit defeat.