In bending over the embroidery he touched Mrs.Bellew's shoulder; it was not drawn away, a faint pressure seemed to answer his own.

His mother's voice recalled him: "Oh, my needle, dear! It's so sweet of you, but perhaps" George handed back the embroidery.

Mrs.Pendyce received it with a grateful look.

It was the first time he had ever shown an interest in her work.
Mrs.Bellew had taken up a palm-leaf fan to screen her face from the fire.

She said slowly: "If we win to-morrow I'll embroider you something, George." "And if we lose ?" Mrs.Bellew raised her eyes, and involuntarily George moved so that his mother could not see the sort of slow mesmerism that was in them.
"If we lose," she said, "I shall sink into the earth.