eard another kind of
knocking, and her father's voice:

"Nollie! Nollie!"

She scrambled up, and opened. He looked scared, and her heart smote her.

"It's all right, Daddy; I was asleep."

"My dear, I'm sorry, but dinner's ready."

"I don't want any dinner; I think I'll go to bed."

The frown between his brows deepened.

"You shouldn't lock your door, Nollie: I was quite frightened. I went
round to the hospital to bring you home, and they told me about your
fainting. I want you to see a doctor."

Noel shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no! It's nothing!"

"Nothing? To faint like that? Come, my child. To please me." He took
her face in his hands. Noel shrank away.

"No, Daddy. I won't see a doctor. Extravagance in wartime! I won't.
It's no good trying to make me. I'll come down if you like; I shall be
all right to-morrow."

With this Pierson had to be content; but, often that evening, she saw him
looking at her anxiously. And when she went up, he came out of his
study, followed to her room, and insisted on lighting her fire. Kissing
her at the door, he said very quietly:

"I wish I could be a mother to you, my child!"

For a moment it flashed through Noel: 'He knows!' then, by the puzzled
look on his face, she knew that he did not. If only he did know; what a
weight it would be off her mind! But she answered quietly too; "Good
night, Daddy dear!" kissed him, and shut the door.

She sat down before the little new fire, and spread her hands out to it;
all was so cold and wintry in her heart. And the firelight flickered on
her face, where shadows lay thick under her eyes, for all the roundness
of her cheeks, and on her slim pale hands, and the supple grace of her
young body. And out in the night, clouds raced over the moon, which had
come full once more.

VI

1

Pierson went back to his study, and wrote to Gratian.

"If you can get leave for a few days, my dear, I want you at home. I am
troubled about Nollie. Ever since that disaster happened to her she has
been getting paler; and to-day she fainted. She won't see a doctor, but
perhaps you could get her to see George. If you come up, he will surely
be able to run up to us for a day or two. If not, you must take her down
to him at the sea. I have just seen the news of your second cousin
Charlie Pierson's death; he was killed in one of the last attacks on the
Somme; he was nephew of my cousin Leila whom, as you know, Noel se