in me. It is one reason why I came away. I had to think it out. I
suppose"--she paused and looked steadily at Priscilla--"I suppose the
maternal has always been a master passion in me, and I've rebelled at
being an only child; at having no children but the--specialized kind.
I have been hungry for so many things I am realizing now."

"In my training I have seen--what you mean. All sorts drift in--to pay
the price of love or the penalty of passion, as Doctor Ledyard used to
express it; but"--and Priscilla's eyes grew darker--"I used to find--a
nurse gets so much closer, you know, than a doctor can--I found that
sometimes it was the penalty of love and the price of passion. Those
sad young creatures, with only blind instinct to uphold them, were
so--divinely human, and paid so superbly. When it comes to the hour of
a life for a life, one thing alone matters, I am afraid, and it is the
thing _you_ mean, Margaret."

"Yes. And what a horrible puzzle it all is. The thing I mean should be
always there--always. The world's wrong when it is not."

Suddenly Priscilla, sending the light boat forward by the impulse of her
last stroke, said, as if it were quite in line with all that had gone
before:

"There's Doctor Travers on the wharf!"

He heard her, and called back:

"Quite unintentionally, I assure you. I was waiting for the boat to take
me across. I've been wandering about, sleeping where I could. I simply
find myself--here!"