The curious feature of her present position was that she had no sense of being pinned down. She had thought of this in the night. She had never felt freer in her life. Within a few hours of her engagement she had been able to do exactly what she wished to do without a single qualm of conscience. She had been able to come here and look after him in this emergency. She would have done this anyway, but she knew how Marcellin and his assistant and even Nurse Duval would have made her pay for her act--an act based upon nothing but decent loyalty and honest responsibility. Raised eyebrows--gossip in the air--covert smiles--the whole detestable atmosphere of intrigue with which they would have surrounded her, had vanished as by a spell before the magic word fiancee. She was breathing air like that upon the mountain-tops. It was sweet and clean and bracing. "Monte," she said, "I'm doing at this moment just exactly what I want to do; and you can't understand what a treat that is, because you've always done just exactly as you wanted. I 'm sure I 'm entirely selfish about this, because--because I'm not making any sacrifice. You can't understand that, either, Monte,--so please don't try. I think we'd better not talk any more about it. Can't we just let it go on as it is a little while?" "It suits me," smiled Monte. "So maybe I'm selfish, too." "Maybe," she nodded. "Now I'll see about your breakfast. The doctor told me just what you must have." So she went out--moving away like a vision in dainty white across the room and out the door. A few minutes later she was back again with a vase of red roses, which she arranged upon the table where he could see them. CHAPTER VIII DRAWBACKS OF RECOVERY Monte's recovery was rapid--in many ways more rapid than he desired. In a few days Nurse Duval disappeared, and in a few days more Monte was able to dress himself with the help of the hotel valet, and sit by the window while Marjory read to him. Half the time he gave no heed to what she was reading, but that did not detract from his pleasure in the slightest. He liked the sound of her voice, and liked the idea of sitting opposite her. Her eyes were always interesting when she read. For then she forgot about them and let them have their own way--now to light with a smile, now to darken with disapproval, and sometimes to grow very tender, as the story she happened to be reading dictated.