oor and stood with his back to her.

Even the comfort of staying with Peter to the last was denied her. The
chief had said it must be team-work, the best. She mustn't waste many
seconds. She thought of the many she had helped to die, the courage a warm
grip of the hand had given, the healing strength in a smile, and her
heart cringed before this last sacrifice of giving Peter over to a
desolate, prayerless death. Hardly breathing, she slipped down and laid
her cheek to his bearded one. She could offer one prayer, that he need
never wake to know. Kneeling there, his last words came back to her almost
in mockery:

"Don't bungle your instincts. I'd trust them next to God's own."

Dear God, if she only could bungle them! If only they had not wrenched
from her this torturing, ghastly choice! She knew the meaning now of the
strangeness that had met her as she first crossed the threshold of the
little church. She knew why the chorus of mothers had been sung so deep
into her heart. The greatest moment of her life had come--a terrible,
soul-rending moment. And beyond it lay nothing. She choked out an
incoherent, futile prayer into the dulled ears--and left him. This--this
was her farewell to Peter Brooks--her man--her man for all time.

The American orderly had disappeared. Sheila stumbled over to the door and
gripped the sleeve of the German.

"If he opens his eyes"--she opened and shut her own eyes in
pantomime--"come for me, quick. Verstehen?"

The German nodded.

For the next half-hour, with nerves keyed to their utmost and hands
working with the greatest speed and skill they were capable of, Sheila
O'Leary's soul went down into purgatory and stayed there. Not once did she
look beyond the boy she was helping to save; not once did she let herself
think what might be happening beyond the circle of light that hemmed them
in. With all the woman courage she could muster, she was stifling every
breath of love or longing--or self-pity. If she could have killed her body
and known that when that night's work was done she would be laid in the
cemetery outside with Peter, she would have been almost satisfied.

Suddenly she realized they had finished. The chief was repeating something
over and over again.

"The boy is safe. You'd better lie down."

The bearers were moving the boy back to the pews and the chief was leading
her down the steps of the chancel. But it was Sheila who guided their
steps at the bottom. She led the wa