"Honor," he asked, "was I hard with Ladybird? And am I an unpardonable
brute if I insist on holding out against her?"

"Indeed, no! You mustn't dream of doing anything else."

She looked full at him now, forgetful of herself in concern for him.

"I was half afraid--once, that you were going to give way."

"Poor Ladybird! She little guessed how near I came to it. And maybe
that's as well, after all."

"Yes, Theo. It would be fatal to begin that way. I quite see how hard
it is for her. But she must learn to understand. When it comes to
active service, we women must be put altogether on one side. If we
can't help, we are at least bound not to hinder."

Desmond watched her while she spoke with undisguised admiration.

"Would you say that with the same assurance, I wonder, if it were
John? Or if it happened to be--your own husband?"

A rush of colour flooded her face, but she had strength enough not to
turn it aside.

"Of course I would."

"Then I sincerely hope you will marry one of us, Honor. Wives of that
quality are too rare to be wasted on civilians!"

This time she bent her head.

"I should never dream of marrying any one--but a soldier," she
answered very low. "Now I must go back to my poor Evelyn and help her
to see things more from your point of view."

"How endlessly good to us you are," he said with sudden fervour. "I
know I can count on you to keep her up to the mark, and not let her
make herself too miserable while we are away."

"Yes--yes. I am only so thankful to be here with her--this first
time."

He stood aside to let her pass; and she went out quickly, holding her
head higher than usual.

He followed at a little distance, still perplexed and thoughtful, but
refraining from the least attempt to account for her very unusual
behaviour. What she did not choose to tell him he would not seek to
know.

On the threshold of the drawing-room he paused.

His wife still stood where he had left her, disconsolately fingering
her roses, her delicate face marred with weeping. Honor went to her
straightway; and putting both arms round her kissed her with a
passionate tenderness, intensified by a no less passionate
self-reproach.

At the unnerving touch of sympathy Evelyn's grief broke out afresh.

"Oh, Honor--Honor, comfort me!" she sobbed, unaware of her husband's
presence in the doorway. "You're the only one who really cares. And he
is so--so pleased about it. That makes it worse than all!"