u how he reacted on
myself--myself being an unimportant and uninteresting person. It was
all very well when I could stand aside and dispassionately analyse such
reactions. The same with regard to my dear Betty. But now if I adopted
the same method of telling you the story of Betty and the story of
Boyce--the method of reaction, so to speak--I should be merely whining
into your ears the dolorous tale of Duncan Meredyth, paralytic and
idiot.

The deuce of it is that, for a long time, nothing particular or
definite happened. So how can I describe to you a very important period
in the lives of Betty and Boyce and me?

I had to resume my intimacy with Boyce. The blind and lonely man craved
it and claimed it. It would be an unmeaning pretence of modesty to
under-estimate the value to him of my friendship. He was a man of
intense feelings. Torture had closed his heart to the troops of friends
that so distinguished a soldier might have had. He granted admittance
but to three, his mother, Betty and--for some unaccountable
reason--myself. On us he concentrated all the strength of his
affection. Mind you, it was not a case of a maimed creature clinging
for support to those who cared for him. In his intercourse with me, he
never for a moment suggested that he was seeking help or solace in his
affliction. On the contrary, he ruled it out of the conditions of
social life. He was as brave as you please. In his laughing scorn of
blindness he was the bravest man I have ever known. He learned the
confidence of the blind with marvellous facility. His path through
darkness was a triumphant march.

Sometimes, when he re-fought old battles and planned new ones, forecast
the strategy of the Great Advance, word-painted scenes and places, drew
character sketches of great leaders and quaint men, I forgot the
tragedy of Althea Fenimore. And when the memory came swiftly back, I
wondered whether, after all, Gedge's story from first to last had not
been a malevolent invention. The man seemed so happy. Of course you
will say it was my duty to give a hint of Gedge's revelation. It was.
To my shame, I shirked it. I could not find it in my heart suddenly to
dash into his happiness. I awaited an opportunity, a change of mood in
him, an allusion to confidences of which I alone of human beings had
been the recipient.

Betty visited me as usual. We talked war and hospital and local gossip
for a while and then she seemed to take refuge at the piano. We