Yet it was Ronnie who made moan, and Helen who bravely comforted; turning as often as possible to earnest discussion of his plot and its possibilities.

But after a while even she went under, to the thought of the nearness of the parting.
Though it was late in April, the evenings were chilly; a fire glowed in the grate.
Presently Ronnie rose, turned off the electric light, and seated himself on the rug in the firelight, resting his head against his wife's knees.
Silently she passed her fingers through his hair.
Something in the quality of her silence turned Ronald's thoughts from himself to her alone.

"Helen," he said, "I hate to be leaving you.

Shall you be very lonely ?" She could not answer.
"You are sure your good old Mademoiselle Victorine is coming to be with you ?" "Yes, dear.

She holds herself in readiness to come as soon as I feel able to send for her.