horror of those who act
by talking. He felt inclined to say: 'Don't pay the slightest attention
to me; it's all humbug; what will be will be, and there's an end of it:

Then she said quietly:

"Shall I tell Daddy or not?"

He wanted to say: "No," but somehow couldn't. After all, the
straightforward course was probably the best. For this would have to be
a lifelong concealment. It was impossible to conceal a thing for ever;
sooner or later he would find out. But the doctor rose up in him, and he
said:

"Don't go to meet trouble, Nollie; it'll be time enough in two months.
Then tell him, or let me."

She shook her head. "No; I will, if it is to be done."

He put his hand on hers, within his arm, and gave it a squeeze.

"What shall I do till then?" she asked.

"Take a week's complete rest, and then go on where you are."

Noel was silent a minute, then said: "Yes; I will."

They spoke no more on the subject, and George exerted himself to talk
about hospital experiences, and that phenomenon, the British soldier. But
just before they reached home he said:

"Look here, Nollie! If you're not ashamed of yourself, no one will be
ashamed of you. If you put ashes on your own head, your fellow-beings
will, assist you; for of such is their charity."

And, receiving another of those clear, brooding looks, he left her with
the thought: 'A lonely child!'

VII

Noel went back to her hospital after a week's rest. George had done more
for her than he suspected, for his saying: "Life's a huge wide adaptable
thing!" had stuck in her mind. Did it matter what happened to her? And
she used to look into the faces of the people she met, and wonder what
was absorbing them. What secret griefs and joys were they carrying about
with them? The loneliness of her own life now forced her to this
speculation concerning others, for she was extraordinarily lonely;
Gratian and George were back at work, her father must be kept at bay;
with Leila she felt ill at ease, for the confession had hurt her pride;
and family friends and acquaintances of all sorts she shunned like the
plague. The only person she did not succeed in avoiding was Jimmy Fort,
who came in one evening after dinner, bringing her a large bunch of
hothouse violets. But then, he did not seem to matter--too new an
acquaintance, too detached. Something he said made her aware that he had
heard of her loss, and that the violets were a token of sympathy. He
s