cheapen him in her eyes; he was still more afraid that
they might mean to her that he valued her too lightly. He held himself
in hand, staring straight before him and speaking quietly.

"I'm the only judge of what I owe you. I came to you broken. Life had
made a fool of me. I'd fallen through placing my ideals too high.
Everything was slipping. Every belief I'd ever had was open to doubt.
Most of all I'd lost faith in the goodness of women. To explain my state
of mind I have to tell you that the war had made me fanatical. Like
millions of men who went out to die, I'd persuaded myself that I was
fighting more than Germans--I was fighting to bring about the new heaven
and the new earth. Our politicians promised us as much. You remember
their phrases. 'A world safe for democracy! A land fit for heroes to
live in.' When all the muck and the heartbreak were ended, we found that
outwardly it was the same old world. Heaven was as far away as ever.
There were no signs that any one wanted a new earth. Nations which had
been comrades, began to wrangle. Soldiers came home to find their jobs
held by slackers. The glorious promises had been a death-bed repentance;
their insincerity was proved when the world recovered. But our worst
disappointment was utterly personal--that despite the magnanimity we had
shared and witnessed, we ourselves were no less selfish. For me all
these disillusions were epitomized in Terry. I'd fought for her. I'd
carried her in my heart. If I'd died, my last thoughts would have been
of her. I came back hungry and she disowned me. That she should have
done that made humanity a Judas and God a mocker. I don't mean you to
believe that I gave way at once to this wholesale injustice. At first I
made an effort to struggle against it. I'd always held that great living
was a matter of pressing forward, of wearing an air of triumph when you
knew you were defeated, of believing, in spite of every proof to the
contrary, that further up the road your kingdom waited for you."

He felt the pressure of her friendly hand. "It does," she assured him.
"That's what you've taught me. It's what you taught Maisie; it's almost
as though you'd willed her husband to come back. You're a great
believer. All great believers have been doubters. They give away so much
of their faith that at times they have none left for themselves. You
limp. Don't flinch; with me there's no need to be sensitive. When you
entered my room for the first ti