onds after the door had closed
Christina continued to gaze in its direction, her head well up, her
face stern and rather pale. Then, quite suddenly, her bosom gave a
quick heave, her lips parted, trembling, her eyes blinked, her
whole attitude became lax. But she was not going to cry; certainly
not! She was far too angry for tears; angry with herself no less
than Macgregor. He had actually departed without being dismissed;
worse still, he had had the last word! An observer--the thought
struck her--would have assumed that she, weak wretch, had humbly
allowed him to go and leave her in the wrong! Her maiden pride had
somehow failed her, for she ought to have sent him forth crushed.
And yet, surely, she had hurt, punished, humiliated him. Oh, no
doubt of that! And for a moment her illogical heart wavered. She
drew out her hanky, muttering 'how I hate him!'--and blew her
pretty nose. Then she clenched her hands and set her teeth. Then
she went lax again. Then--oh, dear! he had even insulted her by
leaving her to pick up the cast-off ring!--for, of course, she
could not leave it there for Miss Tod or a customer to see.

Haughtily she moved round the counter and with scornful finger-tips
took up the tiny wreckage of a great hope. The gold was twisted
and bruised, the little pearls were loose in their places. All at
once she felt a horrid pain in her throat. . . .

Miss Tod appeared, fresh from the joys of strong tea.

'Oh, lassie, ha'e ye hurted yersel'?'

Christina choked, recovered herself and cried: 'I've sold a
blighter a sixpenny notebook for threepence, an' I'll never get
over it as long as I live. B--but I hope that'll no be long!'

Just then Heaven sent a customer.

* * * * *

And perhaps Heaven sent the telegram that Macgregor found on his
return home, rather late in the afternoon. The war has changed
many things and people, but mothers most of all. Mrs. Robinson
made no mention of the 'extra special' dinner prepared so vainly in
her son's honour. 'Yer fayther missed ye,' was her only reference
to his absence from the meal.

The telegram was an order to return to duty. The mother and sister
saw his eyes change, his shoulders stiffen.

'Maybe something's gaun to happen at last,' he said; and almost in
the same breath, though in a different voice--'Christina's finished
wi' me. It was ma ain fau't. Ye needna speak aboot it. I--I'm no
heedin'--greatly.' He clea