very
tired?' He slipped his hand round hers, and her fingers rested in his
clasp, delighted to feel themselves so small, and his so strong. He had
spoken to her in the low voice that was hers alone. She was jealous lest
Bridget should have overheard it. But Bridget was at the other end of
the room. How foolish it had been of her--just because she was so happy,
and wanted to be nice to everybody!--to have asked Bridget to stay with
them! She was always doing silly things like that--impulsive things. But
now she was married. She must think more. It was really very considerate
of Bridget to have got them all out of a difficulty and to have settled
herself a mile away from them; though at first it had seemed rather
unkind. Now they could see her always sometime in the day, but not so as
to interfere. She was afraid Bridget and George would never really get
on, though she--Nelly--wanted to forget all the unpleasantness there had
been,--to forget everything--everything but George. The fortnight's
honeymoon lay like a haze of sunlight between her and the past.

But Bridget had noticed the voice and the clasped hands,--with
irritation. Really, after a fortnight, they might have done with that
kind of demonstrativeness. All the same, Nelly was quite extraordinarily
pretty--prettier than ever. While the sister was slowly putting on her
hat before the only mirror the sitting-room possessed, she was keenly
conscious of the two figures near the window, of the man in khaki
sitting on the arm of Nelly's chair, holding her hand, and looking down
upon her, of Nelly's flushed cheek and bending head. What a baby she
looked!--scarcely seventeen. Yet she was really twenty-one--old enough,
by a long way, to have done better for herself than this! Oh, George, in
himself, was well enough. If he came back from the war, his new-made
sister-in-law supposed she would get used to him in time. Bridget
however did not find it easy to get on with men, especially young men,
of whom she knew very few. For eight or ten years now, she had looked
upon them chiefly as awkward and inconvenient facts in women's lives.
Before that time, she could remember a few silly feelings on her own
part, especially with regard to a young clerk of her father's, who had
made love to her up to the very day when he shamefacedly told her that
he was already engaged, and would soon be married. That event had been a
shock to her, and had made her cautious and suspicious towards