began unsteadily. "I think I can."

"I know you can." And this time there was no doubt in Sheila's heart.

She saw to it that the little mother had been called away before they
reached the Surgical, so that the room was empty except for the occupant
of the cot. "Hello, boy!" she called, triumphantly, from the doorway. "I
have brought you the best present a soldier ever had," and she pushed
Clarisse into the room and closed the door.

For a moment those two young creatures looked at each other, overcome with
confusion and the self-consciousness of their own great change.

The boy spoke first. "Clare!"

"Phil!" It came in a breathless little cry, like a bird's answer to its
mate. Then the girl followed. Across the room she flew, to the bed, and
down on her knees, hiding her face deep in the folds of coverlet and
hospital shirt. Words came forth chokingly at last, like bubbles of air
rising slowly to the surface.

"Those letters--those awful letters! Just foolish things that didn't
matter. One of the boys at the canteen--I used to wait on the table and
make believe every soldier I served was mine, and I always wore my
prettiest clothes--he said--the boy--that over there they didn't want
anything but light stuff--those were his words--said a chap couldn't stand
hearing that his girl was lonely.... He said to cut out all the blue funks
and the worries; the light stuff helped to steady a chap's nerve. So I--"

And then the boy lied like a soldier. "Don't, Clare darling. I knew all
along you were playing off like a good sport. And it helped a lot. Gee!
how it helped!"

When Sheila looked in, hours later, the girl was still by the bed, her
cheek on the pillow beside the boy's.

It was a strangely illusive Leerie that met Peter that night in the
rest-house after the ailing part of the San had been put safely to bed.
Her eyes seemed to transcend the stars, and her face might have served for
a young neophyte. As Peter saw, for the first time he glimpsed the signal
Fate had been playing with so many days.

"What's happened? Anything wrong with those cubs?"

"Nothing. They're as right as right can be." Then with the old directness
Sheila plunged headlong into the thing she knew must be done. "Man of
mine, I'm going to hurt you. Can you forgive and still understand?"

"I can try." Peter did his best to keep his voice from sounding too heavy,
for a fear was gripping at his heart, and his eyes sought Sheila's face,
pleadi