ch? I have nothing to offer you--not so much as when we
first met--but with your help, dear heart, I'll start again. We can do
so much together. Elise--I hardly know what I am saying--but you do
understand, don't you? I can't live without you. Tell me that you
still care a little. Tell me'----

Her hands were pressed against his coat, forcing him away from her,
when, with a strange little cry, she nestled into his arms and hid her
face against his breast.

For a moment he doubted that it could be true, and then a feeling of
infinite tenderness swept everything else aside. It was not a time for
words or hot caresses to declare his passion. He stooped down and
pressed his lips against her hair in silent reverence. She was his.
This woman against his breast, this girl whose being held the mystery
and the charm of life, was his. The arms that held her to him pressed
more tightly, as if jealous of the years they had been robbed of her.

'I must go in,' she whispered.

He led her to the door, her hand in his, but though he longed to take
her in a passionate embrace, he knew instinctively that her surrender
was so spiritual a thing that he must accept it as the gift of an
unopened spirit-flower.

'Good-night, dear.' She paused at the door, then raised her face to
his.

Their lips met in the first kiss.

IV.

The following Saturday Selwyn met Elise at Waterloo, and with her hand
on his arm they walked through London's happy streets.

It was 9th November.

News had come that the Germans had entered the French lines to receive
the armistice terms, and hard on that was the official report that the
German Emperor had abdicated.

London--great London--whose bosom had sustained the shocks, the hopes,
the cruelties of war, was bathed in a noble sunlight. For all its
incongruities and jumbled architecture, it has great moments that no
other city knows; and as Selwyn and Elise made their way through the
crowds, there was an indefinable majesty that lay like a golden robe
over the whole metropolis.

Above St. Paul's there floated shining gray airships, escorted by
encircling aeroplanes. Hope--dumb hope--was abroad. Not in an
abandonment of ecstasy, or of garish vulgarity which was soon to
follow, but in a spirit of proud sorrow, Londoners raised their eyes to
the skies. Passengers on omnibuses looked with new gratitude at the
plucky girls in charge who had carried on so long. People stood aside
to let w