it would
keep her from brooding. Or, if you will give up the shop, I should
like to make it financially possible for you, Emily."

She shook her head. "No. You will be coming back, and then my
occupation would be gone." She hesitated. "But if I come--what of
Hilda?"

"She may decide to go over, too, as a nurse. We work well together."

She was silent, searching for the words which she felt that she ought
to say. So that was it? They would go together, and the tongues of
the world would wag. And Hilda would know that they were wagging, and
would not care. But he, with his mind on bigger things, would never
know, and would blunder unseeing into the net which was set for him.
She felt that she ought to warn him, that the good friendship which
existed between them demanded it. Yet it was a hard thing to say, and
she hated it. So the moment passed.

It was he who spoke first--of Jean and Derry. "What do you think of
it, Emily?"

"He is very much in love with her."

"And Jean?"

"Oh, I think you know. You saw her tonight."

He felt a sudden sense of age and loneliness. "She won't miss me,
then?"

"Do you think that anyone could make up to your little Jean for the
loss of her father?"

He covered his face with his hand. "You are feeling it like that?" she
asked, gently.

"Yes. She is all I have, Emily. And I am
jealous--desperately--desperately."

She searched for words to comfort him, and at last they came. "She
will be very proud of her Daddy in France."

"Do you think she will?"

"I know it."

"And yet--I am not really worthy of all that she gives--"

She leaned forward, her white hands in her lap. Jean's comment echoed
once more in his ears. "I like Emily's hands much better than
Hilda's." They seemed, indeed, to represent all that was lovely in
Emily, her refinement, her firmness, her gentle spirit.

"Bruce," she said--she rarely called him that--"your dear wife would
never have loved you if you hadn't been worthy of love."

"I need her--to hold me to my best."

"Hold yourself to it, Bruce--" She stood up. "I must go to bed, and
so must you. We have busy days before us."

He spoke impulsively. "You are a good woman, Emily--there's no one in
the world that I would trust to stay with Jean but you."

She smiled a little wistfully as she went upstairs. She had perhaps
comforted him, but she had left unsaid the words she should have
spoken. "You must not take Hilda with