hing more about it."

And then, as she still remained silent, and as Major Guthrie could see
by the expression of her face that she meant to refuse what he so
generously and delicately offered her, he went on:

"I feel now that I ought to tell you something which I had meant to keep
to myself." He cleared his throat--and hum'd and hum'd a little. "I'm
sure you'll understand that every sensible man, when going on active
service, makes a fresh will. I've already written out my instructions to
my solicitor, and he will prepare a will for me to sign to-morrow." He
waited a moment, and then added, as lightly as he could: "I've left you
a thousand pounds, which I've arranged you should receive immediately on
my death. You see, I'm a lonely man, and all my relations are well off.
I think you know, without my telling out, that I've become very much
attached to you--to you and to Miss Rose."

And still Mrs. Otway was too much surprised, and yes, too much moved, to
speak. Major Guthrie was indeed proving himself a true friend.

"Under ordinary circumstances," he went on slowly, "this clause in my
will would be of very little practical interest to you, for I am a
healthy man. But we're up against a very big thing, Mrs. Otway----" He
did not like to add that it was quite possible she would receive his
legacy before she had had time to dip very far into the money he was
leaving with her.

She looked at him with a troubled look. And yet? And yet, though it was
not perhaps very reasonable that it should be so, somehow she did feel
that the fact that Major Guthrie was leaving her--and Rose--the legacy
of which he spoke, made a difference. It would make it easier, that is,
to accept the money that lay there on her table. Though Major Guthrie
was not, in the technical sense, a clever man, he had a far more
intimate knowledge of human character than had his friend.

"I don't know how to thank you," she said at last.

He answered rather sharply, "I don't want you to thank me. And Mrs.
Otway? I can say now what I've never had the opportunity of saying, that
is, how much I've felt honoured by your friendship--what a lot it's
meant to me."

He said the words in a rather hard, formal voice, and she answered, with
far more emotion than he had betrayed, "And it's been a very, very great
thing for me, too, Major Guthrie. Do please believe that!"

He bowed his head gravely. "Well, I must be going now," he said, a
little heavily and sadly