e I wondered whether I should
get home alive; and, on my soul, I prayed the whole time that I
shouldn't. . . . I'm not drawing an indictment. I rather expected to
hear from you. . . . It wasn't easy waiting. . . . As for America, I
didn't see how it could possibly interest you. . . ." He broke off and
whispered to himself, "God! what those days of waiting were like! I
should have thought that, after what _you'd_ been through . . . in
common humanity----"

"And if I had nothing to tell you?" she interrupted.

For a moment Eric did not understand her. For all her self-possession,
there were shadows under her eyes, and she was haggard as on the night
when they first met. Jack's appearance, then, and their conversation
together had made no difference . . . no difference one way or the
other; she had not telephoned because there was nothing to tell him.

"I don't think I've anything more to say, Babs."

An arm interposed itself between them, and he looked down to see what
was being put before him. To his surprise they had only reached the
fish. He seemed to have been dining for an eternity!

"D'you care to hear what happened?" she asked.

"What d'you think I'm made of?" he muttered.

Barbara began eating her fish and telling her story at the same time. It
was short, and she gave it in jerky little sentences. George Oakleigh
had telephoned to say that he had two stalls for "Mother's Son" and
would be delighted if she would dine and go with him. . . . They arrived
and saw a certain number of friends. . . . At the end of the first act
George went out to smoke a cigarette. . . . She had just begun talking
to Gerry Deganway when she looked up and caught Jack's eye. . . . They
were both so much surprised that they became praeternaturally
natural. . . .

"I said: 'I've not seen you for a long time. I heard you were home.' He
said: 'I got back a fortnight ago.' I asked him how he was and whether
he'd had a very awful time in Germany. . . . And he laughed and said he
was glad, on the whole, that it was all over, but that he was a fair
German scholar now--or something of that kind--and he'd never have taken
the trouble to learn another language if it hadn't been for the war. . . .
I think he didn't find it easy to slip away; and I hate people leaning
over me, when they're talking, so I asked him to sit down till George
came back. _Then_ the only thing we talked about was his being wounded
and taken prisoner. I'd heard it all