The pride she would have felt to some extent, I think, if she had married a grampus; for when a woman has a husband at the front she feels that she is taking her part in the campaign and exposing herself vicariously to hardship and shrapnel; and in the eyes of the world she gains thereby a little in stature, a thing dear to every right-minded woman.

But Betty's husband was not a grampus, but a very fine fellow, a mate to be wholly proud of: and he loved her devotedly and expressed his love beautifully loverwise, as her tell-tale face informed me.

Gratefully and sturdily she had set herself out to be happy.

She was succeeding....

Lord bless you! Millions of women who have married, not the wretch they loved, but the other man, have lived happy ever after.
No: I had no fear for Betty now.