ating cloud of dust on the horizon told of the exit of the enemy from
the Theatre of War, Saxham played his one trump card in the game that
meant life and death to him, and life, and everything that made life worth
living, to one other.

* * * * *

You are to see the hulking Doctor with the square-cut face, his grim
under-jaw more squarely set than ever, his blue eyes smouldering anxiety
under their glooming brows, trying to coax a pale, bewildered girl to take
a walk with him. She would at length, provided Sister Tobias walked on the
other side and held her hand. So this party of three plunged into the
boiling whirlpool of joyous Gueldersdorp.

People were singing "God Save the Queen," and "The Red, White, and Blue,"
"Auld Lang Syne" and "Rule, Britannia," all at once and all together, and
playing the tunes of them on mouth-organs and concertinas. They were
shaking hands with one another and everybody else, and shedding tears of
joy, and borrowing the pocket-handkerchiefs of sympathetic strangers to
dry them, or leaving them undried. They were crowding the Government
kitchens, drinking the healths of the officers and men of Great Britain's
Union Brigade in hot soup and hot coffee. They were clustered like bees
upon the most climbable house-tops, watching those retiring dust-clouds in
the distance, and the nearer movements of their friends and allies; they
were hearing the experiences of dust-stained and travel-worn Imperialists,
and telling their own; and one and all, they were thanking God Who had led
them, through bodily fear, and mental anguish, and bitter privations, to
hail the dawn of this most blessed day.

The electrical atmosphere, the surge of the multitude, the roar of
thousands of voices, the gaze of thousands of eyes, had its effect upon
the girl. She trembled and flushed and paled. Her breath came quick and
short. She threw back her head and gasped for air. But she did not wish to
be taken back to the Convent bombproof. She shook her head when Sister
Tobias suggested that they should return.

And then some of the women whom she had helped to nurse in hospital saw
her, and recognised her, and came about her with pitiful words and
compassionate looks--not only for her own sake, but for that dead woman's
whose adopted daughter they knew her to have been.

"You poor, blessed, innocent lamb!" They crowded about her, kissing her
hands and her dress, and Sister Tobias's shabby