THE
RETURN
OF
THE
SOLDIER
BY
REBECCA
WEST
NEW
YORK
GEORGE
H
.
DORAN
COMPANY
COPYRIGHT
,
1918
,
BY
GEORGE
H
.
DORAN
COMPANY
THE
RETURN
OF
THE
SOLDIER
-C-
PRINTED
IN
THE
UNITED
STATES
OF
AMERICA
CHAPTER
I
“
AH
,
do
n't
begin
to
fuss
!
"
wailed
Kitty
.
"
If
a
woman
began
to
worry
in
these
days
because
her
husband
had
n't
written
to
her
for
a
fortnight
!
Besides
,
if
he
'd
been
anywhere
interesting
,
anywhere
where
the
fighting
was
really
hot
,
he
'd
have
found
some
way
of
telling
me
instead
of
just
leaving
it
as
'
Somewhere
in
France
.
'
He
'll
be
all
right
.
"
We
were
sitting
in
the
nursery
.
I
had
not
meant
to
enter
it
again
,
now
that
the
child
was
dead
;
but
I
had
come
suddenly
on
Kitty
as
she
slipped
the
key
into
the
lock
,
and
I
had
lingered
to
look
in
at
the
high
room
,
so
full
of
whiteness
and
clear
colors
,
so
unendurably
gay
and
familiar
,
which
is
kept
in
all
respects
as
though
there
were
still
a
child
in
the
house
.
It
was
the
first
lavish
day
of
spring
,
and
the
sunlight
was
pouring
through
the
tall
,
arched
windows
and
the
flowered
curtains
so
brightly
that
in
the
old
days
a
fat
fist
would
certainly
have
been
raised
to
point
out
the
new
,
translucent
glories
of
the
rosebud
.
Sunlight
was
lying
in
great
pools
on
the
blue
cork
floor
and
the
soft
rugs
,
patterned
with
strange
beasts
,
and
threw
dancing
beams
,
which
should
have
been
gravely
watched
for
hours
,
on
the
white
paint
and
the
blue
distempered
walls
.
It
fell
on
the
rocking-horse
,
which
had
been
Chris
's
idea
of
an
appropriate
present
for
his
year-old
son
,
and
showed
what
a
fine
fellow
he
was
and
how
tremendously
dappled
;
it
picked
out
Mary
and
her
little
lamb
on
the
chintz
ottoman
.
And
along
the
mantelpiece
,
under
the
loved
print
of
the
snarling
tiger
,
in
attitudes
that
were
at
once
angular
and
relaxed
,
as
though
they
were
ready
for
play
at
their
master
's
pleasure
,
but
found
it
hard
to
keep
from
drowsing
in
this
warm
weather
,
sat
the
Teddy
Bear
and
the
chimpanzee
and
the
woolly
white
dog
and
the
black
cat
with
eyes
that
roll
.
Everything
was
there
except
Oliver
.
I
turned
away
so
that
I
might
not
spy
on
Kitty
revisiting
her
dead
.
But
she
called
after
me
:
"
Come
here
,
Jenny
.
I
'm
going
to
dry
my
hair
.
"
And
when
I
looked
again
I
saw
that
her
golden
hair
was
all
about
her
shoulders
and
that
she
wore
over
her
frock
a
little
silken
jacket
trimmed
with
rosebuds
.
She
looked
so
like
a
girl
on
a
magazine
cover
that
one
expected
to
find
a
large
"
15
cents
"
somewhere
attached
to
her
person
.
She
had
taken
Nanny
's
big
basket-chair
from
its
place
by
the
high-chair
,
and
was
pushing
it
over
to
the
middle
window
.
"
I
always
come
in
here
when
Emery
has
washed
my
hair
.
It
's
the
sunniest
room
in
the
house
.
I
wish
Chris
would
n't
have
it
kept
as
a
nursery
when
there
's
no
chance
—
"
She
sat
down
,
swept
her
hair
over
the
back
of
the
chair
into
the
sunlight
,
and
held
out
to
me
her
tortoiseshell
hair-brush
.
"
Give
it
a
brush
now
and
then
,
like
a
good
soul
;
but
be
careful
.
Tortoise
snaps
so
!
"
I
took
the
brush
and
turned
to
the
window
,
leaning
my
forehead
against
the
glass
and
staring
unobservantly
at
the
view
.
You
probably
know
the
beauty
of
that
view
;
for
when
Chris
rebuilt
Baldry
Court
after
his
marriage
he
handed
it
over
to
architects
who
had
not
so
much
the
wild
eye
of
the
artist
as
the
knowing
wink
of
the
manicurist
,
and
between
them
they
massaged
the
dear
old
place
into
matter
for
innumerable
photographs
in
the
illustrated
papers
.
The
house
lies
on
the
crest
of
Harrowweald
,
and
from
its
windows
the
eye
drops
to
miles
of
emerald
pasture-land
lying
wet
and
brilliant
under
a
westward
line
of
sleek
hills
;
blue
with
distance
and
distant
woods
,
while
nearer
it
range
the
suave
decorum
of
the
lawn
and
the
Lebanon
cedar
,
the
branches
of
which
are
like
darkness
made
palpable
,
and
the
minatory
gauntnesses
of
the
topmost
pines
in
the
wood
that
breaks
downward
,
its
bare
boughs
a
close
texture
of
browns
and
purples
,
from
the
pond
on
the
edge
of
the
hill
.
That
day
its
beauty
was
an
affront
to
me
,
because
,
like
most
Englishwomen
of
my
time
,
I
was
wishing
for
the
return
of
a
soldier
.
Disregarding
the
national
interest
and
everything
else
except
the
keen
prehensile
gesture
of
our
hearts
toward
him
,
I
wanted
to
snatch
my
Cousin
Christopher
from
the
wars
and
seal
him
in
this
green
pleasantness
his
wife
and
I
now
looked
upon
.
Of
late
I
had
had
bad
dreams
about
him
.
By
nights
I
saw
Chris
running
across
the
brown
rottenness
of
No-Man's-Land
,
starting
back
here
because
he
trod
upon
a
hand
,
not
even
looking
there
because
of
the
awfulness
of
an
unburied
head
,
and
not
till
my
dream
was
packed
full
of
horror
did
I
see
him
pitch
forward
on
his
knees
as
he
reached
safety
,
if
it
was
that
.
For
on
the
war-films
I
have
seen
men
slip
down
as
softly
from
the
trench-parapet
,
and
none
but
the
grimmer
philosophers
could
say
that
they
had
reached
safety
by
their
fall
.
And
when
I
escaped
into
wakefulness
it
was
only
to
lie
stiff
and
think
of
stories
I
had
heard
in
the
boyish
voice
of
the
modern
subaltern
,
which
rings
indomitable
,
yet
has
most
of
its
gay
notes
flattened
:
"
We
were
all
of
us
in
a
barn
one
night
,
and
a
shell
came
along
.
My
pal
sang
out
,
'
Help
me
,
old
man
;
I
've
got
no
legs
!
'
and
I
had
to
answer
,
'
I
ca
n't
,
old
man
;
I
've
got
no
hands
!
'
"
Well
,
such
are
the
dreams
of
Englishwomen
to-day
.
I
could
not
complain
,
but
I
wished
for
the
return
of
our
soldier
.
So
I
said
:
"
I
wish
we
could
hear
from
Chris
.
It
is
a
fortnight
since
he
wrote
.
"
And
then
it
was
that
Kitty
wailed
,
"
Ah
,
do
n't
begin
to
fuss
!
"
and
bent
over
her
image
in
a
hand-mirror
as
one
might
bend
for
refreshment
over
scented
flowers
.
I
tried
to
build
about
me
such
a
little
globe
of
ease
as
always
ensphered
her
,
and
thought
of
all
that
remained
good
in
our
lives
though
Chris
was
gone
.
I
was
sure
that
we
were
preserved
from
the
reproach
of
luxury
,
because
we
had
made
a
fine
place
for
Chris
,
one
little
part
of
the
world
that
was
,
so
far
as
surfaces
could
make
it
so
,
good
enough
for
his
amazing
goodness
.
Here
we
had
nourished
that
surpassing
amiability
which
was
so
habitual
that
one
took
it
as
one
of
his
physical
characteristics
,
and
regarded
any
lapse
into
bad
temper
as
a
calamity
as
startling
as
the
breaking
of
a
leg
;
here
we
had
made
happiness
inevitable
for
him
.
I
could
shut
my
eyes
and
think
of
innumerable
proofs
of
how
well
we
had
succeeded
,
for
there
never
was
so
visibly
contented
a
man
.
And
I
recalled
all
that
he
did
one
morning
just
a
year
ago
when
he
went
to
the
front
.
First
he
had
sat
in
the
morning-room
and
talked
and
stared
out
on
the
lawns
that
already
had
the
desolation
of
an
empty
stage
,
although
he
had
not
yet
gone
;
then
broke
off
suddenly
and
went
about
the
house
,
looking
into
many
rooms
.
He
went
to
the
stables
and
looked
at
the
horses
and
had
the
dogs
brought
out
;
he
refrained
from
touching
them
or
speaking
to
them
,
as
though
he
felt
himself
already
infected
with
the
squalor
of
war
and
did
not
want
to
contaminate
their
bright
physical
well-being
.
Then
he
went
to
the
edge
of
the
wood
and
stood
staring
down
into
the
clumps
of
dark-leaved
rhododendrons
and
the
yellow
tangle
of
last
year
's
bracken
and
the
cold
winter
black
of
the
trees
.
(
From
this
very
window
I
had
spied
on
him
.
)
Then
he
moved
broodingly
back
to
the
house
to
be
with
his
wife
until
the
moment
of
his
going
,
when
Kitty
and
I
stood
on
the
steps
to
see
him
motor
off
to
Waterloo
.
He
kissed
us
both
.
As
he
bent
over
me
I
noticed
once
again
how
his
hair
was
of
two
colors
,
brown
and
gold
.
Then
he
got
into
the
car
,
put
on
his
Tommy
air
,
and
said
:
"
So
long
!
I
'll
write
you
from
Berlin
!
"
and
as
he
spoke
his
head
dropped
back
,
and
he
set
a
hard
stare
on
the
house
.
That
meant
,
I
knew
,
that
he
loved
the
life
he
had
lived
with
us
and
desired
to
carry
with
him
to
the
dreary
place
of
death
and
dirt
the
complete
memory
of
everything
about
his
home
,
on
which
his
mind
could
brush
when
things
were
at
their
worst
,
as
a
man
might
finger
an
amulet
through
his
shirt
.
This
house
,
this
life
with
us
,
was
the
core
of
his
heart
.
"
If
he
could
come
back
!
"
I
said
.
"
He
was
so
happy
here
!
"
And
Kitty
answered
:
"
He
could
not
have
been
happier
.
"
It
was
important
that
he
should
have
been
happy
,
for
,
you
see
,
he
was
not
like
other
city
men
.
When
we
had
played
together
as
children
in
that
wood
he
had
always
shown
great
faith
in
the
imminence
of
the
improbable
.
He
thought
that
the
birch-tree
would
really
stir
and
shrink
and
quicken
into
an
enchanted
princess
,
that
he
really
was
a
red
Indian
,
and
that
his
disguise
would
suddenly
fall
from
him
at
the
right
sundown
,
that
at
any
moment
a
tiger
might
lift
red
fangs
through
the
bracken
,
and
he
expected
these
things
with
a
stronger
motion
of
the
imagination
than
the
ordinary
child
's
make-believe
.
And
from
a
thousand
intimations
,
from
his
occasional
clear
fixity
of
gaze
on
good
things
as
though
they
were
about
to
dissolve
into
better
,
from
the
passionate
anticipation
with
which
he
went
to
new
countries
or
met
new
people
,
I
was
aware
that
this
faith
had
persisted
into
his
adult
life
.
He
had
exchanged
his
expectation
of
becoming
a
red
Indian
for
the
equally
wistful
aspiration
of
becoming
completely
reconciled
to
life
.
It
was
his
hopeless
hope
that
some
time
he
would
have
an
experience
that
would
act
on
his
life
like
alchemy
,
turning
to
gold
all
the
dark
metals
of
events
,
and
from
that
revelation
he
would
go
on
his
way
rich
with
an
inextinguishable
joy
.
There
had
been
,
of
course
,
no
chance
of
his
ever
getting
it
.
Literally
there
was
n't
room
to
swing
a
revelation
in
his
crowded
life
.
First
of
all
,
at
his
father
's
death
he
had
been
obliged
to
take
over
a
business
that
was
weighted
by
the
needs
of
a
mob
of
female
relatives
who
were
all
useless
either
in
the
old
way
,
with
antimacassars
,
or
in
the
new
way
,
with
golf-clubs
;
then
Kitty
had
come
along
and
picked
up
his
conception
of
normal
expenditure
,
and
carelessly
stretched
it
as
a
woman
stretches
a
new
glove
on
her
hand
.
Then
there
had
been
the
difficult
task
of
learning
to
live
after
the
death
of
his
little
son
.
It
had
lain
on
us
,
the
responsibility
,
which
gave
us
dignity
,
to
compensate
him
for
his
lack
of
free
adventure
by
arranging
him
a
gracious
life
.
But
now
,
just
because
our
performance
had
been
so
brilliantly
adequate
,
how
dreary
was
the
empty
stage
!
We
were
not
,
perhaps
,
specially
contemptible
women
,
because
nothing
could
ever
really
become
a
part
of
our
life
until
it
had
been
referred
to
Chris
's
attention
.
I
remember
thinking
,
as
the
parlor-maid
came
in
with
a
card
on
the
tray
,
how
little
it
mattered
who
had
called
and
what
flag
of
prettiness
or
wit
she
flew
,
since
there
was
no
chance
that
Chris
would
come
in
and
stand
over
her
,
his
fairness
red
in
the
firelight
,
and
show
her
that
detached
attention
,
such
as
an
unmusical
man
pays
to
good
music
,
which
men
of
anchored
affections
give
to
attractive
women
.
Kitty
read
from
the
card
:
"
'
Mrs
.
William
Grey
,
Mariposa
,
Ladysmith
Road
,
Wealdstone
,
'
I
do
n't
know
anybody
in
Wealdstone
.
"
That
is
the
name
of
the
red
suburban
stain
which
fouls
the
fields
three
miles
nearer
London
than
Harrowweald
.
One
cannot
now
protect
one
's
environment
as
one
once
could
.
"
Do
I
know
her
,
Ward
?
Has
she
been
here
before
?
"
"
Oh
,
no
,
ma'am
.
"
The
parlor-maid
smiled
superciliously
.
"
She
said
she
had
news
for
you
.
"
From
her
tone
one
could
deduce
an
over-confiding
explanation
made
by
a
shabby
visitor
while
using
the
door-mat
almost
too
zealously
.
Kitty
pondered
,
then
said
:
"
I
'll
come
down
.
"
As
the
girl
went
,
Kitty
took
up
the
amber
hair-pins
from
her
lap
and
began
swathing
her
hair
about
her
head
.
"
Last
year
's
fashion
,
"
she
commented
;
"
but
I
fancy
it
'll
do
for
a
person
with
that
sort
of
address
.
"
She
stood
up
,
and
threw
her
little
silk
dressing-
jacket
over
the
rocking-horse
.
"
I
'm
seeing
her
because
she
may
need
something
,
and
I
specially
want
to
be
kind
to
people
while
Chris
is
away
.
One
wants
to
deserve
well
of
heaven
.
"
For
a
minute
she
was
aloof
in
radiance
,
but
as
we
linked
arms
and
went
out
into
the
corridor
she
became
more
mortal
,
with
a
pout
.
"
The
people
that
come
breaking
into
one
's
nice
,
quiet
day
!
"
she
moaned
reproachfully
,
and
as
we
came
to
the
head
of
the
broad
stair-case
she
leaned
over
the
white
balustrade
to
peer
down
on
the
hall
,
and
squeezed
my
arm
.
"
Look
!
"
she
whispered
.
Just
beneath
us
,
in
one
of
Kitty
's
prettiest
chintz
arm-chairs
,
sat
a
middle-aged
woman
.
She
wore
a
yellowish
raincoat
and
a
black
hat
with
plumes
.
The
sticky
straw
hat
had
only
lately
been
renovated
by
something
out
of
a
little
bottle
bought
at
the
chemist
's
.
She
had
rolled
her
black
thread
gloves
into
a
ball
on
her
lap
,
so
that
she
could
turn
her
gray
alpaca
skirt
well
above
her
muddy
boots
and
adjust
its
brush-braid
with
a
seamed
red
hand
that
looked
even
more
worn
when
she
presently
raised
it
to
touch
the
glistening
flowers
of
the
pink
azalea
that
stood
on
a
table
beside
her
.
Kitty
shivered
,
then
muttered
:
"
Let
's
get
this
over
,
"
and
ran
down
the
stairs
.
On
the
last
step
she
paused
and
said
with
conscientious
sweetness
,
"
Mrs.
Grey
!
"
"
Yes
,
"
answered
the
visitor
.
She
lifted
to
Kitty
a
sallow
and
relaxed
face
the
expression
of
which
gave
me
a
sharp
,
pitying
pang
of
prepossession
in
her
favor
:
it
was
beautiful
that
so
plain
a
woman
should
so
ardently
rejoice
in
another
's
loveliness
.
"
Are
you
Mrs.
Baldry
?
"
she
asked
,
almost
as
if
she
were
glad
about
it
,
and
stood
up
.
The
bones
of
her
bad
stays
clicked
as
she
moved
.
Well
,
she
was
not
so
bad
.
Her
body
was
long
and
round
and
shapely
,
and
with
a
noble
squareness
of
the
shoulders
;
her
fair
hair
curled
diffidently
about
a
good
brow
;
her
gray
eyes
,
though
they
were
remote
,
as
if
anything
worth
looking
at
in
her
life
had
kept
a
long
way
off
,
were
full
of
tenderness
;
and
though
she
was
slender
,
there
was
something
about
her
of
the
wholesome
,
endearing
heaviness
of
the
ox
or
the
trusted
big
dog
.
Yet
she
was
bad
enough
.
She
was
repulsively
furred
with
neglect
and
poverty
,
as
even
a
good
glove
that
has
dropped
down
behind
a
bed
in
a
hotel
and
has
lain
undisturbed
for
a
day
or
two
is
repulsive
when
the
chambermaid
retrieves
it
from
the
dust
and
fluff
.
She
flung
at
us
as
we
sat
down
:
"
My
general
maid
is
sister
to
your
second
housemaid
.
"
It
left
us
at
a
loss
.
"
You
've
come
about
a
reference
?
"
asked
Kitty
.
"
Oh
,
no.
I
've
had
Gladys
two
years
now
,
and
I
've
always
found
her
a
very
good
girl
.
I
want
no
reference
.
"
With
her
finger-nail
she
followed
the
burst
seam
of
the
dark
pigskin
purse
that
slid
about
on
her
shiny
alpaca
lap
.
"
But
girls
talk
,
you
know
.
You
must
n't
blame
them
.
"
She
seemed
to
be
caught
in
a
thicket
of
embarrassment
,
and
sat
staring
up
at
the
azalea
.
With
the
hardness
of
a
woman
who
sees
before
her
the
curse
of
women
's
lives
,
a
domestic
row
,
Kitty
said
that
she
took
no
interest
in
servants
'
gossip
.
"
Oh
,
it
is
n't
—
"
her
eyes
brimmed
as
though
we
had
been
unkind
—
"
servants
'
gossip
that
I
wanted
to
talk
about
.
I
only
mentioned
Gladys
"
—
she
continued
to
trace
the
burst
seam
of
her
purse
—
"
because
that
's
how
I
heard
you
did
n't
know
.
"
"
What
do
n't
I
know
?
"
Her
head
drooped
a
little
.
"
About
Mr.
Baldry
.
Forgive
me
,
I
do
n't
know
his
rank
.
"
"
Captain
Baldry
,
"
supplied
Kitty
,
wonderingly
.
"
What
is
it
that
I
do
n't
know
?
"
She
looked
far
away
from
us
,
to
the
open
door
and
its
view
of
dark
pines
and
pale
March
sunshine
,
and
appeared
to
swallow
something
.
"
Why
,
that
he
's
hurt
,
"
she
gently
said
.
"
Wounded
,
you
mean
?
"
asked
Kitty
.
Her
rusty
plumes
oscillated
as
she
moved
her
mild
face
about
with
an
air
of
perplexity
.
"
Yes
,
"
she
said
,
"
he
's
wounded
.
"
Kitty
's
bright
eyes
met
mine
,
and
we
obeyed
that
mysterious
human
impulse
to
smile
triumphantly
at
the
spectacle
of
a
fellow-creature
occupied
in
baseness
.
For
this
news
was
not
true
.
It
could
not
possibly
be
true
.
The
War
Office
would
have
wired
to
us
immediately
if
Chris
had
been
wounded
.
This
was
such
a
fraud
as
one
sees
recorded
in
the
papers
that
meticulously
record
squalor
in
paragraphs
headed
,
"
Heartless
Fraud
on
Soldier
's
Wife
.
"
Presently
she
would
say
that
she
had
gone
to
some
expense
to
come
here
with
her
news
and
that
she
was
poor
,
and
at
the
first
generous
look
on
our
faces
there
would
come
some
tale
of
trouble
that
would
disgust
the
imagination
by
pictures
of
yellow-wood
furniture
that
a
landlord
oddly
desired
to
seize
and
a
pallid
child
with
bandages
round
its
throat
.
I
cast
down
my
eyes
and
shivered
at
the
horror
.
Yet
there
was
something
about
the
physical
quality
of
the
woman
,
unlovely
though
she
was
,
which
preserved
the
occasion
from
utter
baseness
.
I
felt
sure
that
had
it
not
been
for
the
tyrannous
emptiness
of
that
evil
,
shiny
pigskin
purse
that
jerked
about
on
her
trembling
knees
the
poor
driven
creature
would
have
chosen
ways
of
candor
and
gentleness
.
It
was
,
strangely
enough
,
only
when
I
looked
at
Kitty
and
marked
how
her
brightly
colored
prettiness
arched
over
this
plain
criminal
as
though
she
were
a
splendid
bird
of
prey
and
this
her
sluggish
insect
food
that
I
felt
the
moment
degrading
.
Kitty
was
,
I
felt
,
being
a
little
too
clever
over
it
.
"
How
is
he
wounded
?
"
she
asked
.
The
caller
traced
a
pattern
on
the
carpet
with
her
blunt
toe
.
"
I
do
n't
know
how
to
put
it
;
he
's
not
exactly
wounded
.
A
shell
burst
—
"
"
Concussion
?
"
suggested
Kitty
.
She
answered
with
an
odd
glibness
and
humility
,
as
though
tendering
us
a
term
she
had
long
brooded
over
without
arriving
at
comprehension
,
and
hoping
that
our
superior
intelligences
would
make
something
of
it
:
"
Shell-shock
.
"
Our
faces
did
not
illumine
,
so
she
dragged
on
lamely
,
"
Anyway
,
he
's
not
well
.
"
Again
she
played
with
her
purse
.
Her
face
was
visibly
damp
.
"
Not
well
?
Is
he
dangerously
ill
?
"
"
Oh
,
no.
"
She
was
too
kind
to
harrow
us
.
"
Not
dangerously
ill.
"
Kitty
brutally
permitted
a
silence
to
fall
.
Our
caller
could
not
bear
it
,
and
broke
it
in
a
voice
that
nervousness
had
turned
to
a
funny
,
diffident
croak
.
"
He
's
in
the
Queen
Mary
Hospital
at
Boulogne
.
"
We
did
not
speak
,
and
she
began
to
flush
and
wriggle
on
her
seat
,
and
stooped
forward
to
fumble
under
the
legs
of
her
chair
for
her
umbrella
.
The
sight
of
its
green
seams
and
unveracious
tortoiseshell
handle
disgusted
Kitty
into
speech
.
"
How
do
you
know
all
this
?
"
Our
visitor
met
her
eyes
.
This
was
evidently
a
moment
for
which
she
had
steeled
herself
,
and
she
rose
to
it
with
a
catch
of
her
breath
.
"
A
man
who
used
to
be
a
clerk
along
with
my
husband
is
in
Mr.
Baldry
's
regiment
.
"
Her
voice
croaked
even
more
piteously
,
and
her
eyes
begged
:
"
Leave
it
at
that
!
Leave
it
at
that
!
If
you
only
knew
—
"
"
And
what
regiment
is
that
?
"
pursued
Kitty
.
The
poor
sallow
face
shone
with
sweat
.
"
I
never
thought
to
ask
,
"
she
said
.
"
Well
,
your
friend
's
name
—
"
Mrs.
Grey
moved
on
her
seat
so
suddenly
and
violently
that
the
pigskin
purse
fell
from
her
lap
and
lay
at
my
feet
.
I
supposed
that
she
cast
it
from
her
purposely
because
its
emptiness
had
brought
her
to
this
humiliation
,
and
that
the
scene
would
close
presently
in
a
few
quiet
tears
.
I
hoped
that
Kitty
would
let
her
go
without
scarring
her
too
much
with
words
and
would
not
mind
if
I
gave
her
a
little
money
.
There
was
no
doubt
in
my
mind
but
that
this
queer
,
ugly
episode
in
which
this
woman
butted
like
a
clumsy
animal
at
a
gate
she
was
not
intelligent
enough
to
open
would
dissolve
and
be
replaced
by
some
more
pleasing
composition
in
which
we
would
take
our
proper
parts
;
in
which
,
that
is
,
she
would
turn
from
our
rightness
ashamed
.
Yet
she
cried
:
"
But
Chris
is
ill
!
"
It
took
only
a
second
for
the
compact
insolence
of
the
moment
to
penetrate
,
the
amazing
impertinence
of
the
use
of
his
name
,
the
accusation
of
callousness
she
brought
against
us
whose
passion
for
Chris
was
our
point
of
honor
,
because
we
would
not
shriek
at
her
false
news
,
the
impudently
bright
,
indignant
gaze
she
flung
at
us
,
the
lift
of
her
voice
that
pretended
she
could
not
understand
our
coolness
and
irrelevance
.
I
pushed
the
purse
away
from
me
with
my
toe
,
and
hated
her
as
the
rich
hate
the
poor
as
insect
things
that
will
struggle
out
of
the
crannies
which
are
their
decent
home
and
introduce
ugliness
to
the
light
of
day
.
And
Kitty
said
in
a
voice
shaken
with
pitilessness
:
"
You
are
impertinent
.
I
know
exactly
what
you
are
doing
.
You
have
read
in
the
'
Harrow
Observer
'
or
somewhere
that
my
husband
is
at
the
front
,
and
you
come
to
tell
this
story
because
you
think
that
you
will
get
some
money
.
I
've
read
of
such
cases
in
the
papers
.
You
forget
that
if
anything
had
happened
to
my
husband
the
War
Office
would
have
told
me
.
You
should
think
yourself
very
lucky
that
I
do
n't
hand
you
over
to
the
police
.
"
She
shrilled
a
little
before
she
came
to
the
end
.
"
Please
go
!
"
"
Kitty
!
"
I
breathed
.
I
was
so
ashamed
that
such
a
scene
should
spring
from
Chris
's
peril
at
the
front
that
I
wanted
to
go
out
into
the
garden
and
sit
by
the
pond
until
the
poor
thing
had
removed
her
deplorable
umbrella
,
her
unpardonable
raincoat
,
her
poor
frustrated
fraud
.
But
Mrs.
Grey
,
who
had
begun
childishly
and
deliberately
,
"
It
's
you
who
are
being
—
"
and
had
desisted
simply
because
she
realized
that
there
were
no
harsh
notes
on
her
lyre
,
and
that
she
could
not
strike
these
chords
that
others
found
so
easy
,
had
fixed
me
with
a
certain
wet
,
clear
,
patient
gaze
.
It
is
the
gift
of
animals
and
those
of
peasant
stock
.
From
the
least
regarded
,
from
an
old
horse
nosing
over
a
gate
,
or
a
drab
in
a
work-house
ward
,
it
wrings
the
heart
.
From
this
woman
—
I
said
checkingly
:
"
Kitty
!
"
and
reconciled
her
in
an
undertone
.
"
There
's
some
mistake
.
Got
the
name
wrong
,
perhaps
.
Please
tell
us
all
about
it
.
"
Mrs.
Grey
began
a
forward
movement
like
a
curtsy
.
She
was
groveling
after
that
purse
.
When
she
rose
,
her
face
was
pink
from
stooping
,
and
her
dignity
swam
uncertainly
in
a
sea
of
half-shed
tears
.
She
said
:
"
I
'm
sorry
I
've
upset
you
.
But
when
you
know
a
thing
like
that
it
is
n't
in
flesh
and
blood
to
keep
it
from
his
wife
.
I
am
a
married
woman
myself
,
and
I
know
.
I
knew
Mr.
Baldry
fifteen
years
ago
.
"
Her
voice
freely
confessed
that
she
had
taken
a
liberty
.
"
Quite
a
friend
of
the
family
he
was
.
"
She
had
added
that
touch
to
soften
the
crude
surprisingness
of
her
announcement
.
It
hardly
did
.
"
We
lost
sight
of
each
other
.
It
's
fifteen
years
since
we
last
met
.
I
had
never
seen
nor
heard
of
him
nor
thought
to
do
again
till
I
got
this
a
week
ago
.
"
She
undid
the
purse
and
took
out
a
telegram
.
I
knew
suddenly
that
all
she
said
was
true
;
for
that
was
why
her
hands
had
clasped
that
purse
.
"
He
is
n't
well
!
He
is
n't
well
!
"
she
said
pleadingly
.
"
He
's
lost
his
memory
,
and
thinks
—
thinks
he
still
knows
me
.
"
She
passed
the
telegram
to
Kitty
,
who
read
it
,
and
laid
it
on
her
knee
.
"
See
,
"
said
Mrs.
Grey
,
"
it
's
addressed
to
Margaret
Allington
,
my
maiden
name
,
and
I
've
been
married
these
ten
years
.
And
it
was
sent
to
my
old
home
,
Monkey
Island
,
at
Bray
.
Father
kept
the
inn
there
.
It
's
fifteen
years
since
we
left
it
.
I
never
should
have
got
this
telegram
if
me
and
my
husband
had
n't
been
down
there
last
September
and
told
the
folks
who
keep
it
now
who
I
was
.
"
Kitty
folded
up
the
telegram
and
said
in
a
little
voice
:
"
This
is
a
likely
story
.
"
Again
Mrs.
Grey
's
eyes
brimmed
.
"
People
are
rude
to
one
,
"
she
visibly
said
,
but
surely
not
nice
people
like
this
.
She
simply
continued
to
sit
.
Kitty
cried
out
,
as
though
arguing
:
"
There
's
nothing
about
shell-shock
in
this
wire
.
"
Our
visitor
melted
into
a
trembling
shyness
.
"
There
was
a
letter
,
too
.
"
Kitty
held
out
her
hand
.
She
gasped
:
"
Oh
,
no
,
I
could
n't
do
that
!
"
"
I
must
have
it
,
"
said
Kitty
.
The
caller
's
eyes
grew
great
.
She
rose
and
dived
clumsily
for
her
umbrella
,
which
had
again
slipped
under
the
chair
.
"
I
ca
n't
,
"
she
cried
,
and
scurried
to
the
open
door
like
a
pelted
dog
.
She
would
have
run
down
the
steps
at
once
had
not
some
tender
thought
arrested
her
.
She
turned
to
me
trustfully
and
stammered
,
"
He
is
at
that
hospital
I
said
,
"
as
if
,
since
I
had
dealt
her
no
direct
blow
,
I
might
be
able
to
salve
the
news
she
brought
from
the
general
wreck
of
manners
.
And
then
Kitty
's
stiff
pallor
struck
to
her
heart
,
and
cried
comfortingly
across
the
distance
,
"
I
tell
you
,
I
have
n't
seen
him
for
fifteen
years
.
"
She
faced
about
,
pushed
down
her
hat
on
her
head
,
and
ran
down
the
steps
to
the
gravel
.
"
They
wo
n't
understand
!
"
we
heard
her
sob
.
For
a
long
time
we
watched
her
as
she
went
along
the
drive
,
her
yellowish
raincoat
looking
sick
and
bright
in
the
sharp
sunshine
,
her
black
plumes
nodding
like
the
pines
above
,
her
cheap
boots
making
her
walk
on
her
heels
,
a
spreading
stain
on
the
fabric
of
our
life
.
When
she
was
quite
hidden
by
the
dark
clump
of
rhododendrons
at
the
corner
,
Kitty
turned
and
went
to
the
fireplace
.
She
laid
her
arms
against
the
oak
mantel-piece
and
cooled
her
face
against
her
arms
.
When
at
last
I
followed
her
she
said
:
"
Do
you
believe
her
?
"
I
started
.
I
had
forgotten
that
we
had
ever
disbelieved
her
.
"
Yes
,
"
I
replied
.
"
What
can
it
mean
?
"
She
dropped
her
arms
and
stared
at
me
imploringly
.
"
Think
,
think
,
of
something
it
can
mean
which
is
n't
detestable
!
"
"
It
's
all
a
mystery
,
"
I
said
;
and
added
madly
,
because
nobody
had
ever
been
cross
with
Kitty
,
"
You
did
n't
help
to
clear
it
up
.
"
"
Oh
,
I
know
you
think
I
was
rude
,
"
she
petulantly
moaned
;
"
but
you
're
so
slow
you
do
n't
see
what
it
means
.
Either
it
means
that
he
's
mad
,
our
Chris
,
our
splendid
,
sane
Chris
,
all
broken
and
queer
,
not
knowing
us
—
I
ca
n't
bear
to
think
of
that
.
It
ca
n't
be
true
.
But
if
he
is
n't
—
Jenny
,
there
was
nothing
in
that
telegram
to
show
he
'd
lost
his
memory
.
It
was
just
affection
—
a
name
that
might
have
been
a
pet
name
,
things
that
it
was
a
little
common
to
put
in
a
telegram
.
It
's
queer
he
should
have
written
such
a
message
,
queer
that
he
should
n't
have
told
me
about
knowing
her
,
queer
that
he
ever
should
have
known
such
a
woman
.
It
shows
there
are
bits
of
him
we
do
n't
know
.
Things
may
be
awfully
wrong
.
It
's
all
such
a
breach
of
trust
!
I
resent
it
.
"
I
was
appalled
by
these
stiff
,
dignified
gestures
that
seemed
to
be
plucking
Chris
's
soul
from
his
body
,
tormented
though
it
was
by
this
unknown
calamity
.
"
But
Chris
is
ill
!
"
I
cried
.
She
stared
at
me
.
"
You
're
saying
what
she
said
.
"
Indeed
,
there
seemed
no
better
words
than
those
Mrs.
Grey
had
used
.
I
repeated
:
"
But
he
is
ill
!
"
She
laid
her
face
against
her
arms
again
.
"
What
does
that
matter
?
"
she
wailed
.
"
If
he
could
send
that
telegram
,
he
is
no
longer
ours
.
"
CHAPTER
II
I
WAS
sorry
the
next
morning
that
the
post
comes
too
late
at
Harrowweald
to
be
brought
up
with
the
morning
tea
and
waits
for
one
at
the
breakfast
table
;
for
under
Kitty
's
fixed
gaze
I
had
to
open
a
letter
which
bore
the
Boulogne
postmark
and
was
addressed
in
the
writing
of
Frank
Baldry
,
Chris
's
cousin
,
who
is
in
the
church
.
He
wrote
:
DEAR
JENNY
:
You
will
have
to
break
it
to
Kitty
and
try
to
make
her
take
it
as
quietly
as
possible
.
This
sentence
will
sound
ominous
as
a
start
,
but
I
'm
so
full
of
the
extraordinary
thing
that
has
happened
to
Chris
that
I
feel
as
if
every
living
creature
was
in
possession
of
the
facts
.
I
do
n't
know
how
much
you
know
about
it
,
so
I
'd
better
begin
at
the
beginning
.
Last
Thursday
I
got
a
wire
from
Chris
,
saying
that
he
had
had
concussion
,
though
not
seriously
,
and
was
in
a
hospital
about
a
mile
from
Boulogne
,
where
he
would
be
glad
to
see
me
.
It
struck
me
as
odd
that
it
had
been
sent
to
Ollenshaws
,
where
I
was
curate
fifteen
years
ago
.
Fortunately
,
I
have
always
kept
in
touch
with
Sumpter
,
whom
I
regard
as
a
specimen
of
the
very
best
type
of
country
clergymen
,
and
he
forwarded
it
without
unnecessary
delay
.
I
started
that
evening
,
and
looked
hard
for
you
and
Kitty
on
the
boat
;
but
came
to
the
conclusion
I
should
probably
find
you
at
the
hospital
.
After
having
breakfasted
in
the
town
,
—
how
superior
French
cooking
is
!
I
would
have
looked
in
vain
for
such
coffee
,
such
an
omelet
,
in
my
own
parish
,
—
I
went
off
to
look
for
the
hospital
.
It
is
a
girls
'
school
,
which
has
been
taken
over
by
the
Red
Cross
,
with
fair-sized
grounds
and
plenty
of
nice
dry
paths
under
the
tilleuls
.
I
could
not
see
Chris
for
an
hour
,
so
I
sat
down
on
a
bench
by
a
funny
,
little
round
pond
,
with
a
stone
coping
,
very
French
.
Some
wounded
soldiers
who
came
out
to
sit
in
the
sun
were
rather
rude
because
I
was
not
in
khaki
,
even
when
I
explained
that
I
was
a
priest
of
God
and
that
the
feeling
of
the
bishops
was
strongly
against
the
enlistment
of
the
clergy
.
I
do
feel
that
the
church
has
lost
its
grip
on
the
masses
.
Then
a
nurse
came
out
and
took
me
in
to
see
Chris
.
He
is
in
a
nice
room
,
with
a
southern
exposure
,
with
three
other
officers
,
who
seemed
very
decent
(
not
the
"
new
army
,
"
I
am
glad
to
say
)
.
He
was
better
than
I
had
expected
,
but
did
not
look
quite
himself
.
For
one
thing
,
he
was
oddly
boisterous
.
He
seemed
glad
to
see
me
,
and
told
me
he
could
remember
nothing
about
his
concussion
,
but
that
he
wanted
to
get
back
to
Harrowweald
.
He
talked
a
lot
about
the
wood
and
the
upper
pond
and
wanted
to
know
if
the
daffies
were
out
yet
,
and
when
he
would
be
allowed
to
travel
,
because
he
felt
that
he
would
get
well
at
once
if
only
he
could
get
home
.
And
then
he
was
silent
for
a
minute
,
as
though
he
was
holding
something
back
.
It
will
perhaps
help
you
to
realize
the
difficulty
of
my
position
when
you
understand
that
all
this
happened
before
I
had
been
in
the
room
five
minutes
!
Without
flickering
an
eyelid
,
quite
easily
and
naturally
,
he
gave
me
the
surprising
information
that
he
was
in
love
with
a
girl
called
Margaret
Allington
,
who
is
the
daughter
of
a
man
who
keeps
the
inn
on
Monkey
Island
,
at
Bray
on
the
Thames
.
He
uttered
some
appreciations
of
this
woman
which
I
was
too
upset
to
note
.
I
gasped
,
"
How
long
has
this
been
going
on
?
"
He
laughed
at
my
surprise
,
and
said
,
"
Ever
since
I
went
down
to
stay
with
Uncle
Ambrose
at
Dorney
after
I
'd
got
my
B.Sc
.
"
Fifteen
years
ago
!
I
was
still
staring
at
him
,
unable
to
believe
this
barefaced
admission
of
a
deception
carried
on
for
years
,
when
he
went
on
to
say
that
,
though
he
had
wired
to
her
and
she
had
wired
a
message
in
return
,
she
had
n't
said
anything
about
coming
over
to
see
him
.
"
Now
,
"
he
said
quite
coolly
,
"
I
know
old
Allington
's
had
a
bad
season
,
—
oh
,
I
'm
quite
well
up
in
the
innkeeping
business
these
days
,
—
and
I
think
it
may
quite
possibly
be
a
lack
of
funds
that
is
keeping
her
away
.
I
've
lost
my
check-book
somewhere
in
the
scrim
,
and
so
I
wonder
if
you
'd
send
her
some
money
.
Or
,
better
still
,
for
she
's
a
shy
country
thing
,
you
might
fetch
her
.
"
I
stared
.
"
Chris
,
"
I
said
,
"
I
know
the
war
is
making
some
of
us
very
lax
,
and
I
can
only
ascribe
to
that
the
shamelessness
with
which
you
admit
the
existence
of
a
long-standing
intrigue
;
but
when
it
comes
to
asking
me
to
go
over
to
England
and
fetch
the
woman
—
"
He
interrupted
me
with
a
sneer
that
we
parsons
are
inveterately
eighteenth
century
and
have
our
minds
perpetually
inflamed
by
visions
of
squires
'
sons
seducing
country
wenches
,
and
declared
that
he
meant
to
marry
this
Margaret
Allington
.
"
Oh
,
indeed
!
"
I
said
.
"
And
may
I
ask
what
Kitty
says
to
this
arrangement
?
"
"
Who
the
devil
is
Kitty
?
"
he
asked
blankly
.
"
Kitty
is
your
wife
,
"
I
said
quietly
,
but
firmly
.
He
sat
up
and
shouted
:
"
I
have
n't
got
a
wife
!
Has
some
woman
been
turning
up
with
a
cock-and-bull
story
of
being
my
wife
?
Because
it
's
the
damnedest
lie
!
"
I
determined
to
settle
the
matter
by
sharp
,
common-sense
handling
.
"
Chris
,
"
I
said
,
"
you
have
evidently
lost
your
memory
.
You
were
married
to
Kitty
Ellis
at
St.
George
's
,
Hanover
Square
,
on
the
third
,
or
it
may
have
been
the
fourth
"
—
you
know
my
wretched
memory
for
dates
—
"
of
February
,
in
1906.
"
He
turned
very
pale
and
asked
what
year
this
was
.
"
1916
,
"
I
told
him
.
He
fell
back
in
a
fainting
condition
.
The
nurse
came
,
and
said
I
had
done
it
all
right
this
time
,
so
she
at
least
seemed
to
have
known
that
he
required
a
rude
awakening
,
although
the
doctor
,
a
very
nice
man
,
Winchester
and
New
,
told
me
he
had
known
nothing
of
Chris
's
delusions
.
An
hour
later
I
was
called
back
into
the
room
.
Chris
was
looking
at
himself
in
a
hand-mirror
,
which
he
threw
on
the
floor
as
I
entered
.
"
You
are
right
,
"
he
said
;
"
I
'm
not
twenty-one
,
but
thirty-six
.
"
He
said
he
felt
lonely
and
afraid
,
and
that
I
must
bring
Margaret
Allington
to
him
at
once
or
he
would
die
.
Suddenly
he
stopped
raving
and
asked
,
"
Is
father
all
right
?
"
I
prayed
for
guidance
,
and
answered
,
"
Your
father
passed
away
twelve
years
ago
.
"
He
said
,
"
Good
God
!
ca
n't
you
say
he
died
,
"
and
he
turned
over
and
lay
with
his
back
to
me
.
I
have
never
before
seen
a
strong
man
weep
,
and
it
is
indeed
a
terrible
sight
.
He
moaned
a
lot
,
and
began
to
call
for
this
Margaret
.
Then
he
turned
over
again
and
said
,
"
Now
tell
us
all
about
this
Kitty
that
I
've
married
.
"
I
told
him
she
was
a
beautiful
little
woman
,
and
mentioned
that
she
had
a
charming
and
cultivated
soprano
voice
.
He
said
very
fractiously
:
"
I
do
n't
like
little
women
,
and
I
hate
anybody
,
male
or
female
,
who
sings
.
O
God
,
I
do
n't
like
this
Kitty
.
Take
her
away
!
"
And
then
he
began
to
rave
again
about
this
woman
.
He
said
that
he
was
consumed
with
desire
for
her
and
that
he
would
never
rest
until
he
once
more
held
her
in
his
arms
.
I
had
no
suspicion
that
Chris
had
this
side
to
his
nature
,
and
it
was
almost
a
relief
when
he
fainted
again
.
I
have
not
seen
him
since
,
and
it
is
evening
;
but
I
have
had
a
long
talk
with
the
doctor
,
who
says
that
he
has
satisfied
himself
that
Chris
is
suffering
from
a
loss
of
memory
extending
over
a
period
of
fifteen
years
.
He
says
that
though
,
of
course
,
it
will
be
an
occasion
of
great
trial
to
us
all
,
he
thinks
that
,
in
view
of
Chris
's
expressed
longing
for
Harrowweald
,
he
ought
to
be
taken
home
,
and
advises
me
to
make
all
arrangements
for
bringing
him
back
some
time
next
week
.
I
hope
I
shall
be
upheld
in
this
difficult
enterprise
.
In
the
meantime
I
leave
it
to
you
to
prepare
Kitty
for
this
terrible
shock
.
I
could
have
wished
it
were
a
woman
of
a
different
type
who
was
to
see
my
poor
cousin
through
these
dark
days
,
but
convey
to
her
my
deepest
sympathy
.
Indeed
,
I
never
realized
the
horror
of
warfare
until
I
saw
my
cousin
,
of
whose
probity
I
am
as
firmly
convinced
as
of
my
own
wantonly
repudiating
his
most
sacred
obligations
.
Yours
ever
,
FRANK
.
Over
my
shoulder
Kitty
muttered
:
"
And
he
always
pretended
he
liked
my
singing
.
"
Then
she
gripped
my
arm
and
shrieked
in
a
possessive
fury
:
"
Bring
him
home
!
Bring
him
home
!
"
So
,
a
week
later
,
they
brought
Chris
home
.
From
breakfast-time
that
day
the
house
was
pervaded
with
a
day-before-the-funeral
feeling
.
Although
all
duties
arising
from
the
occasion
had
been
performed
,
one
could
settle
to
nothing
else
.
Chris
was
expected
at
one
,
but
then
there
came
a
telegram
to
say
he
was
delayed
till
the
late
afternoon
.
So
Kitty
,
whose
beauty
was
as
changed
in
grief
from
its
ordinary
seeming
as
a
rose
in
moonlight
is
different
from
a
rose
by
day
,
took
me
down
after
lunch
to
the
greenhouses
and
had
a
snappishly
competent
conversation
about
the
year
's
vegetables
with
Pipe
,
the
gardener
.
Then
Kitty
went
into
the
drawing-room
and
filled
the
house
with
the
desolate
merriment
of
an
inattentively
played
pianola
,
while
I
sat
in
the
hall
and
wrote
letters
and
noticed
how
sad
dance-music
has
sounded
ever
since
the
war
began
.
After
that
she
started
a
savage
raid
of
domestic
efficiency
,
and
made
the
housemaids
cry
because
the
brass
handles
of
the
tall-boys
were
not
bright
enough
and
because
there
was
only
ten-to-one
instead
of
a
hundred-to-one
risk
of
breaking
a
leg
on
the
parquet
.
Then
she
had
tea
,
and
hated
the
soda-cake
.
She
was
a
little
,
shrunk
thing
,
huddled
in
the
arm-chair
farthest
from
the
light
,
when
at
last
the
big
car
came
nosing
up
the
drive
through
the
dark
.
We
stood
up
.
Through
the
thudding
of
the
engines
came
the
sound
of
Chris
's
great
male
voice
which
always
had
in
it
a
note
like
the
baying
of
a
big
dog
.
"
Thanks
,
I
can
manage
by
myself
.
"
I
heard
,
amazed
,
his
step
ring
strong
upon
the
stone
,
for
I
had
felt
his
absence
as
a
kind
of
death
from
which
he
would
emerge
ghostlike
,
impalpable
.
And
then
he
stood
in
the
doorway
,
the
gloom
blurring
his
outlines
like
fur
,
the
faint
,
clear
candle-light
catching
the
fair
down
on
his
face
.
He
did
not
see
me
,
in
my
dark
dress
,
or
huddled
Kitty
,
and
with
the
sleepy
smile
of
one
who
returns
to
a
dear
,
familiar
place
to
rest
he
walked
into
the
hall
and
laid
down
his
stick
and
his
khaki
cap
beside
the
candlestick
on
the
oak
table
.
With
both
hands
he
felt
the
old
wood
,
and
stood
humming
happily
through
his
teeth
.
I
cried
out
,
because
I
had
seen
that
his
hair
was
of
three
colors
now
,
brown
and
gold
and
silver
.
With
a
quick
turn
of
the
head
,
he
found
me
out
in
the
shadows
.
"
Hullo
,
Jenny
!
"
he
said
,
and
gripped
my
hands
.
"
O
Chris
,
I
am
so
glad
!
"
I
stuttered
,
and
then
could
say
no
more
for
shame
that
I
was
thirty-five
instead
of
twenty
.
For
his
eyes
had
hardened
in
the
midst
of
his
welcome
,
as
though
he
had
trusted
that
I
at
least
would
have
been
no
party
to
this
conspiracy
to
deny
that
he
was
young
,
and
he
said
:
"
I
've
dropped
Frank
in
town
.
My
temper
's
of
the
convalescent
type
.
"
He
might
as
well
have
said
,
"
I
've
dropped
Frank
,
who
had
grown
old
,
like
you
.
"
"
Chris
,
"
I
went
on
,
"
it
's
so
wonderful
to
have
you
safe
.
"
"
Safe
,
"
he
repeated
.
He
sighed
very
deeply
and
continued
to
hold
my
hands
.
There
was
a
rustle
in
the
shadows
,
and
he
dropped
my
hands
.
The
face
that
looked
out
of
the
dimness
to
him
was
very
white
,
and
her
upper
lip
was
lifted
over
her
teeth
in
a
distressed
grimace
.
It
was
immediately
as
plain
as
though
he
had
shouted
it
that
this
sad
mask
meant
nothing
to
him
.
He
knew
not
because
memory
had
given
him
any
insight
into
her
heart
,
but
because
there
is
an
instinctive
kindliness
in
him
which
makes
him
wise
about
all
suffering
,
that
it
would
hurt
her
if
he
asked
if
this
was
his
wife
;
but
his
body
involuntarily
began
a
gesture
of
inquiry
before
he
realized
that
that
,
too
,
would
hurt
her
,
and
he
checked
it
half-way
.
So
,
through
a
silence
,
he
stood
before
her
slightly
bent
,
as
though
he
had
been
maimed
.
"
I
am
your
wife
.
"
There
was
a
weak
,
wailing
anger
behind
the
words
.
"
Kitty
,
"
he
said
softly
and
kindly
.
He
looked
around
for
some
graciousness
to
make
the
scene
less
wounding
,
and
stooped
to
kiss
her
;
but
he
could
not
.
The
thought
of
another
woman
made
him
unable
to
breathe
,
sent
the
blood
running
under
his
skin
.
With
a
toss
,
like
a
child
saying
,
"
Well
,
if
you
do
n't
want
to
,
I
'm
sure
I
would
n't
for
the
world
!
"
Kitty
withdrew
from
the
suspended
caress
.
He
watched
her
retreat
into
the
shadows
as
though
she
were
a
symbol
of
this
new
life
by
which
he
was
baffled
and
oppressed
,
until
the
darkness
outside
became
filled
with
the
sound
like
the
surf
which
we
always
hear
at
Harrowweald
on
angry
evenings
,
and
his
eyes
became
distant
,
and
his
lips
smiled
.
"
Up
here
—
in
this
old
place
—
how
one
hears
the
pines
!
"
She
cried
out
from
the
other
end
of
the
room
,
as
though
she
were
speaking
with
some
one
behind
a
shut
door
:
"
I
've
ordered
dinner
at
seven
.
I
thought
you
'd
probably
have
missed
a
meal
or
two
,
or
would
want
to
go
to
bed
early
.
"
She
said
it
very
smartly
,
with
her
head
on
one
side
like
a
bird
,
as
if
she
was
pleading
that
he
would
find
her
very
clever
about
ordering
dinner
and
thinking
of
his
comfort
.
"
Good
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
'd
better
dress
now
,
had
n't
I
?
"
He
looked
up
the
stair-case
,
and
would
have
gone
up
had
I
not
held
him
back
;
for
the
little
room
in
the
south
wing
,
with
the
fishing-rods
and
the
old
books
,
went
in
the
rebuilding
,
absorbed
by
the
black-and-white
magnificence
that
is
Kitty
's
bedroom
.
"
Oh
,
I
'll
take
you
up
,
"
Kitty
rang
out
efficiently
.
She
pulled
at
his
coat-sleeve
,
so
they
started
level
on
the
lowest
step
.
But
as
they
went
up
,
the
sense
of
his
separateness
beat
her
back
;
she
lifted
her
arms
as
though
she
struggled
through
a
fog
,
and
fell
behind
.
When
he
reached
the
top
she
was
standing
half-way
down
the
stairs
,
her
hands
clasped
under
her
chin
.
But
he
did
not
see
her
.
He
was
looking
along
the
corridor
and
saying
,
"
This
house
is
different
.
"
If
the
soul
has
to
stay
in
its
coffin
till
the
lead
is
struck
asunder
,
in
its
captivity
it
speaks
with
such
a
voice
.
She
braced
herself
with
a
gallant
laugh
.
"
How
you
've
forgotten
!
"
she
cried
,
and
ran
up
to
him
,
rattling
her
keys
and
looking
grave
with
housewifery
,
and
I
was
left
alone
with
the
dusk
and
the
familiar
things
.
The
dusk
flowed
in
wet
and
cool
from
the
garden
,
as
if
to
put
out
the
fire
of
confusion
lighted
on
our
hearthstone
,
and
the
furniture
,
very
visible
through
that
soft
evening
opacity
with
the
observant
brightness
of
old
,
well-polished
wood
,
seemed
terribly
aware
.
Strangeness
had
come
into
the
house
,
and
everything
was
appalled
by
it
,
even
time
.
For
the
moments
dragged
.
It
seemed
to
me
,
half
an
hour
later
,
that
I
had
been
standing
for
an
infinite
period
in
the
drawing-room
,
remembering
that
in
the
old
days
the
blinds
had
never
been
drawn
in
this
room
because
old
Mrs.
Baldry
had
liked
to
see
the
night
gathering
like
a
pool
in
the
valley
while
the
day
lingered
as
a
white
streak
above
the
farthest
hills
,
and
perceiving
in
pain
that
the
heavy
blue
blinds
that
shroud
the
nine
windows
because
a
lost
Zeppelin
sometimes
clanks
like
a
skeleton
across
the
sky
above
us
would
make
his
home
seem
even
more
like
prison
.
I
began
to
say
what
was
in
my
mind
to
Kitty
when
she
came
in
,
but
she
moved
past
me
,
remote
in
preoccupation
,
and
I
was
silent
when
I
saw
that
she
was
dressed
in
all
respects
like
a
bride
.
The
gown
she
wore
on
her
wedding-day
ten
years
ago
had
been
cut
and
embroidered
as
this
white
satin
was
;
her
hair
had
been
coiled
low
on
her
neck
,
as
it
was
now
.
Around
her
throat
were
her
pearls
,
and
her
longer
chain
of
diamonds
dropped
,
looking
cruelly
bright
,
to
her
white
,
small
breasts
;
because
she
held
some
needlework
to
her
bosom
,
I
saw
that
her
right
hand
was
stiff
with
rings
and
her
left
hand
bare
save
for
her
wedding-ring
.
She
dropped
her
load
of
flannel
on
a
work-table
and
sat
down
,
spreading
out
her
skirts
,
in
an
arm-chair
by
the
fire
.
With
her
lower
lip
thrust
out
,
as
if
she
were
considering
a
menu
,
she
lowered
her
head
and
looked
down
on
herself
.
She
frowned
to
see
that
the
high
lights
on
the
satin
shone
scarlet
from
the
fire
,
that
her
flesh
glowed
like
a
rose
,
and
she
changed
her
seat
for
a
high-backed
chair
beneath
the
farthest
candle-sconce
.
There
were
green
curtains
close
by
,
and
now
the
lights
on
her
satin
gown
were
green
like
cleft
ice
.
She
looked
as
cold
as
moonlight
,
as
virginity
,
but
precious
;
the
falling
candle-light
struck
her
hair
to
bright
,
pure
gold
.
So
she
waited
for
him
.
There
came
suddenly
a
thud
at
the
door
.
We
heard
Chris
swear
and
stumble
to
his
feet
,
while
one
of
the
servants
spoke
helpfully
.
Kitty
knitted
her
brows
,
for
she
hates
gracelessness
,
and
a
failure
of
physical
adjustment
is
the
worst
indignity
she
can
conceive
.
"
He
's
fallen
down
those
three
steps
from
the
hall
,
"
I
whispered
.
"
They
're
new
.
"
She
did
not
listen
,
because
she
was
controlling
her
face
into
harmony
with
the
appearance
of
serene
virginity
upon
which
his
eyes
would
fall
when
he
entered
the
room
.
His
fall
had
ruffled
him
and
made
him
look
very
large
and
red
,
and
he
breathed
hard
,
like
an
animal
pursued
into
a
strange
place
by
night
,
and
to
his
hot
consciousness
of
his
disorder
the
sight
of
Kitty
,
her
face
and
hands
and
bosom
shining
like
the
snow
,
her
gown
enfolding
her
,
and
her
gold
hair
crowning
her
with
radiance
,
and
the
white
fire
of
jewels
giving
passion
to
the
spectacle
,
was
a
deep
refreshment
.
She
sat
still
for
a
time
,
so
that
he
might
feel
this
well
,
then
raised
her
ringed
hand
to
her
necklaces
.
"
It
seems
so
strange
that
you
should
not
remember
me
,
"
she
said
.
"
You
gave
me
all
these
.
"
He
answered
kindly
:
"
I
am
glad
I
did
that
.
You
look
very
beautiful
in
them
.
"
But
as
he
spoke
his
gaze
shifted
to
the
shadows
in
the
corners
of
the
room
,
and
the
blood
ran
hot
under
his
skin
.
He
was
thinking
of
another
woman
,
of
another
beauty
.
Kitty
put
up
her
hands
as
if
to
defend
her
jewels
.
In
that
silence
dinner
was
announced
,
and
we
went
into
the
dining-room
.
It
is
the
fashion
at
Baldry
Court
to
use
no
electric
light
save
when
there
is
work
to
be
done
or
a
great
company
to
be
entertained
,
and
to
eat
and
talk
by
the
mild
clarity
of
many
candles
.
That
night
it
was
a
kindly
fashion
,
for
we
sat
about
the
table
with
our
faces
veiled
in
shadow
,
and
seemed
to
listen
in
quiet
contentment
to
the
talk
of
our
man
who
had
come
back
to
us
.
Yet
all
through
the
meal
I
was
near
to
weeping
,
because
whenever
he
thought
himself
unobserved
he
looked
at
the
things
that
were
familiar
to
him
.
Dipping
his
head
,
he
would
glance
sidewise
at
the
old
oak
paneling
,
and
nearer
things
he
fingered
as
though
sight
were
not
intimate
enough
a
contact
.
His
hand
caressed
the
arm
of
his
chair
,
because
he
remembered
the
black
gleam
of
it
,
stole
out
and
touched
the
recollected
salt-cellar
.
It
was
his
furtiveness
that
was
heartrending
;
it
was
as
though
he
were
an
outcast
,
and
we
who
loved
him
stout
policemen
.
Was
Baldry
Court
so
sleek
a
place
that
the
unhappy
felt
offenders
there
?
Then
we
had
all
been
living
wickedly
,
and
he
,
too
.
As
his
fingers
glided
here
and
there
he
talked
bravely
about
non-committal
things
:
to
what
ponies
we
had
been
strapped
when
at
the
age
of
five
we
were
introduced
to
the
hunting-field
;
how
we
had
teased
to
be
allowed
to
keep
swans
in
the
pond
above
the
wood
,
and
how
the
yellow
bills
of
our
intended
pets
had
sent
us
shrieking
homeward
;
and
all
the
dear
life
that
makes
the
bland
English
country-side
secretly
adventurous
.
"
Funny
thing
,
"
he
said
.
"
All
the
time
I
was
at
Boulogne
I
wanted
to
see
a
kingfisher
,
that
blue
scudding
down
a
stream
,
or
a
heron
's
flight
round
a
willow
—
"
He
checked
himself
suddenly
;
his
head
fell
forward
on
his
chest
.
"
You
have
no
herons
here
,
of
course
,
"
he
said
drearily
,
and
fingered
the
arm
of
his
chair
again
.
Then
he
raised
his
head
again
,
brisk
with
another
subject
.
"
Do
they
still
have
trouble
with
foxes
at
Steppy
End
?
"
Kitty
shook
her
head
.
"
I
do
n't
know
.
"
"
Griffiths
will
know
,
"
Chris
said
cheerily
,
and
swung
round
on
his
seat
to
ask
the
butler
,
and
found
him
osseous
,
where
Griffiths
was
