now, Meg, he's hard at work. Freddy just
got his promotion--look at it that way." He kissed her trembling lips;
tears were flooding her glorious eyes.

"That's what Hadassah says."

"Hadassah?"

"Yes, Hadassah." Margaret sighed. "Oh, Michael, we have so much to
talk about--whatever shall we do?" She laughed tearfully. Telling
Michael about Freddy's death had brought back the anguish of the year
which had separated them. "You can't imagine how kind and sweet she
has been to me, and how hard they both tried to find you!" She paused.
"Freddy tried, too--he was the best and dearest brother, Mike."

"I know it," he said; his words were a groan. He was trying to grasp
the truth of Margaret's news. Nothing which he had seen in the war
brought its waste and sacrifice more vividly before his eyes than the
fact that Freddy was dead, the living, vital Freddy, the energetic,
brilliant Freddy, whom he always visualized picking up the gleaming
gems in the vast Egyptian tomb; he saw the scene with painful clearness.

There was a little silence. Margaret's hands were clasped tightly in
the sunburnt hands of her "Tommy." Freddy was in both their minds, and
the life they had shared with him in the Valley--the sense of order and
method and ardour for work which he had instilled into their days.

Margaret was resting against Michael, as open about her love for him as
any 'Arriet. She could think of Freddy without any feeling of guilt or
even doubt of his approval. The things which come from within cannot
be explained by forces from without. It was not what Michael had done
or had said which had banished her pride and told her of his
faithfulness. It was the consciousness which came from within, the
consciousness which had always fought back the forces from without.
She had not felt one qualm of conscience, for Freddy was understanding
and approving. He would know that any doubt she had ever had had been
banished the moment Michael had taken her in his arms. Freddy, who had
only blamed him for his weakness, would realize that even in that he
had misjudged him. If Michael had had any guilt on his conscience, he
would never have behaved as he had done. He had read in her eyes that
her love for himself was unchanged, and knowing himself to be worthy of
her love, he had not stopped to consider smaller things. She was so
thankful that he had taken the bull by the horns.

* * * * * *

A