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Perhaps you'll remember--'
He threw another stone, and on the moor beyond the stream she heard
the grouse calling.
'Remember what?'
'That I was quite willing,' he said simply. 'That's all. It's worth
it.'
She could say nothing, but presently her hand dropped its pebble and
found its way into his, and he had held it without saying a word for
a little while. Then after dinner, with no good-bye to her, he had
disappeared by the night train to the south.
And that had been the spirit of all of them, those jolly, rampagious
lads, plain or handsome, clever or slow. Two of them were dead
already. But the one who had thrown ducks and drakes was still, so
far as she knew, somewhere in the Ypres salient, unscathed.
And after that she had come home to the atmosphere created by her
father's life and character, in this old house where she was born,
and in the estate round about it. It was as though she had only just
realized--begun to realize--her father's strangeness. His
eccentricities and unpopularity had meant little to her before.


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