ier in his trap; it's the first time I've ever
felt--the--the spirit of Christ, you know. It's a wonderful thing,
Kate--wonderful! We haven't been close--really close, you and I, so
that we each understand what the other is feeling. It's all in that,
you know; understanding--sympathy--it's priceless. When I saw that
poor little devil taken down and sent back to his regiment to begin his
sorrows all over again--wanting his wife, thinking and thinking of her
just as you know I would be thinking and wanting you, I felt what an
awful outside sort of life we lead, never telling each other what we
really think and feel, never being really close. I daresay that little
chap and his wife keep nothing from each other--live each other's
lives. That's what we ought to do. Let's get to feeling that what really
matters is--understanding and loving, and not only just saying it as
we all do, those fellows on the jury, and even that poor devil of a
judge--what an awful life judging one's fellow-creatures.

"When I left that poor little Tommy this morning, and ever since, I've
longed to get back here quietly to you and tell you about it, and make
a beginning. There's something wonderful in this, and I want you to feel
it as I do, because you mean such a lot to me."

This was what he wanted to say to his wife, not touching, or kissing
her, just looking into her eyes, watching them soften and glow as they
surely must, catching the infection of his new ardour. And he felt
unsteady, fearfully unsteady with the desire to say it all as it should
be said: swiftly, quietly, with the truth and fervour of his feeling.

The hall was not lit up, for daylight still lingered under the new
arrangement. He went towards the drawing-room, but from the very door
shied off to his study and stood irresolute under the picture of a "Man
catching a flea" (Dutch school), which had come down to him from his
father. The governess would be in there with his wife! He must wait.
Essential to go straight to Kathleen and pour it all out, or he would
never do it. He felt as nervous as an undergraduate going up for his
viva' voce. This thing was so big, so astoundingly and unexpectedly
important. He was suddenly afraid of his wife, afraid of her coolness
and her grace, and that something Japanese about her--of all those
attributes he had been accustomed to admire most; afraid, as it were,
of her attraction. He felt young to-night, almost boyish; would she see
that he w