joyful exultation. Surely, surely in
after-remembrance this day would stand out as one all-important, epoch-
making.

And then suddenly came a breathless question. How had Mrs Fanshawe
discovered her retreat? No address had been left at Laburnum Crescent;
no address had been given to Janet Willoughby. Cecil was in her
mother's home; Sophie in hospital. In the name of all that was
mysterious and inexplicable, _how had she been tracked_?

Claire sat bolt upright on her sofa, her grey eyes widened in amaze, her
breath coming sharply through her parted lips. She thrilled at the
realisation that Erskine's will had overcome all difficulties. Had not
Mrs Fanshawe declared that she came at his instigation? And where the
mother had come, would not the son follow?

At that moment a shadow fell across the floor; against the open space of
the window a tall figure stood, blocking the light. Erskine's eager
eyes met her own. Before the first gasp of surprise had left her lips,
his strong hands had gripped the sill, he had vaulted over and stood by
her side.

"I sent on my advance guard, and waited till her return. Did you think
you had hidden yourself where I could not find you? I should have found
you wherever you had gone; but as it happens it was easy enough. You
forgot that you had forwarded flowers to your friend in hospital! She
was ready enough to give me your address. And now--_Claire_"--he held
out his hands, gazing down into her face--"what have you to say to me
now?"

Instinctively Claire's hands stretched out to meet his, but on the
following impulse she drew back, clasping them nervously behind her
back.

"Oh, are you _sure_?" she cried breathlessly. "Are you _sure_ you are
sure? Think what it means! Think of the difference it might make! I
have no money, no influence; I'd be an expense to you, and a drag when
another girl might help. Think! Think! Oh, do be quite sure!"

Erskine's stern eyes melted into a beautiful tenderness as he looked at
her troubled face. He waited no longer, but came a step nearer, and
took forcible possession of the hidden hands.

"It is not my feelings which are in question; it is _yours_. There has
been no doubt in my mind for months past. I think you know that,
Claire!"

"But--your career?"

"I can look after my own career. Do you think it is the straight thing
to suggest to a soldier that he needs a woman to help him in his work?
It's not as a soldier