air and fitting that they should snatch at their
happiness and secure it, before their hour came.

She tried to turn her mind from the fact that at Mons the British line
was being pressed back and back. It would recover. Of course it would
recover. We always began like that. We went back to go forwards faster,
when we got into our stride.

* * * * *

The next evening, Thursday, the girl she knew drove for Dorothea.

When Frances was dressing for dinner her daughter came to her with two
frocks over her arm.

"Mummy ducky," she said, "I think my head's going. I can't tell whether
to wear the white thing or the blue thing. And I feel as if it mattered
more than anything. More than anything on earth."

Frances considered it--Dorothea in her uniform, and the white frock and
the blue frock.

"It doesn't matter a little bit," she said. "If he could propose to you
in that get-up--"

"Can't you see that I want to make up for _that_ and for all the things
he's missed, the things I haven't given him. If only I was as beautiful
as you, Mummy, it wouldn't matter."

"My dear--my dear--"

Dorothy had never been a pathetic child--not half so pathetic as Nicky
with his recklessness and his earache--but this grown-up Dorothy in
khaki breeches, with her talk about white frocks and blue frocks, made
Frances want to cry.

* * * * *

Frank was late. And just before dinner he telephoned to Dorothy that he
couldn't be with her before nine and that he would only have one hour
to give her.

Frances and Anthony looked at each other. But Dorothy looked at
Veronica.

"What's the matter, Ronny? You look simply awful."

"Do I? My head's splitting. I think I'll go and lie down."

"You'd better."

"Go straight to bed," said Frances. "and let Nanna bring you some hot
soup."

But Veronica did not want Nanna and hot soup. She only wanted to take
herself and her awful look away out of Dorothy's sight.

"Well," said Anthony, "if she's going to worry herself sick about Nicky
now--"

Frances knew that she was not worrying about Nicky.

It was nine o'clock.

At any minute now Frank might be there. Dorothy thought: "Supposing he
hasn't got leave?" But she knew that was not likely. If he hadn't got
leave he would have said so when he telephoned.

The hour that was coming had the colour of yesterday. He would hold her
in his arms again till she trembled, and then he woul