e
soreness of her heart. Captain Fort at all events did not despise her;
and he was in trouble like herself. She felt that somehow by the look of
his face, and the tone of his voice when he spoke of Leila. She
quickened her pace. George's words came back to her: "If you're not
ashamed of yourself, no one will be of you!" How easy to say! The old
days, her school, the little half grown-up dances she used to go to, when
everything was happy. Gone! All gone!

But her meetings with Opinion were not over for the day, for turning
again at last into the home Square, tired out by her three hours' ramble,
she met an old lady whom she and Gratian had known from babyhood--a
handsome dame, the widow of an official, who spent her days, which showed
no symptom of declining, in admirable works. Her daughter, the widow of
an officer killed at the Marne, was with her, and the two greeted Noel
with a shower of cordial questions: So she was back from the country, and
was she quite well again? And working at her hospital? And how was her
dear father? They had thought him looking very thin and worn. But now
Gratian was at home--How dreadfully the war kept husbands and wives
apart! And whose was the dear little baby they had in the house?

"Mine," said Noel, walking straight past them with her head up. In every
fibre of her being she could feel the hurt, startled, utterly bewildered
looks of those firm friendly persons left there on the pavement behind
her; could feel the way they would gather themselves together, and walk
on, perhaps without a word, and then round the corner begin: "What has
come to Noel? What did she mean?" And taking the little gold hoop out
of her pocket, she flung it with all her might into the Square Garden.
The action saved her from a breakdown; and she went in calmly. Lunch was
long over, but her father had not gone out, for he met her in the hall
and drew her into the dining-room.

"You must eat, my child," he said. And while she was swallowing down
what he had caused to be kept back for her, he stood by the hearth in
that favourite attitude of his, one foot on the fender, and one hand
gripping the mantel-shelf.

"You've got your wish, Daddy," she said dully: "Everybody knows now. I've
told Mr. Lauder, and Monsieur, and the Dinnafords."

She saw his fingers uncrisp, then grip the shelf again. "I'm glad," he
said.

"Aunt Thirza gave me a ring to wear, but I've thrown it away."

"My dearest