haracteristic
courage and her self-possession returned. She put her hand on the top
of Michael's, the one which held his rifle. Her touch thrilled the
soldier home from the Front; it travelled through his veins like an
electric current. Margaret's eyes had dropped; now they met her
lover's again.

The train in its narrow channel under the city was making such a noise
that it was impossible to hear even a loud voice above its hideous
rattle. There are few noises more devastating to conversation than the
awful roar of a London tube-railway. But Love speaks with an eloquence
which no noise can drown; its sympathy and passion carry it far above
the din and noise of battle. Margaret and Michael knew it well. If
Love depended upon words, what a poor cold thing it would be! No
quarrels would ever be settled, no journeys end in lovers' meetings.

Michael moved the hand which Margaret clasped. It was hard to do it,
but he felt compelled to.

"I'm horribly verminous," he said, apologetically. "I'm just back from
the trenches--you ought to keep further off."

Margaret's eyes dropped; a flame of love's shyness spread over her
glowing face. It heightened her beauty and bewildered Michael. He
longed to take her in his arms and kiss her--even before the whole
carriage-full of people. Perhaps in the early days of the war the
scene would only have brought tears and tender smiles to worldly eyes.

Margaret tried to say something, she scarcely knew what--just anything
to break the passion of their silence, but the roaring of the train
drowned her trembling question. How she hated the swaying and groaning
and the rattling of the tube train as it dashed through its confined
way! Never before had it seemed so awful, so maddening.

Michael, too, was tongue-tied. How could he offer Margaret any
explanation, or ask if she had understood, while the train drowned the
loudest voices? What a hideous place for a lovers' meeting, after
months of weary longing!

When the train drew up at Knightsbridge Margaret rose from her seat.
Her desire to see Kew had fled. It mattered little now where she went;
she was only conscious of the fact that she must put an end to the
present strain. If Michael was as anxious to speak to her as she was
to speak to him, he would follow her. He was obviously home on leave.
He was a free man.

As she rose from her seat, Michael hurriedly gathered his kit together
and rose also, and pushed his w