think not," she replied. "If they weren't still afraid of you
they'd never have come to you. But what does it matter? YOU don't
fight for victory, you fight for the fight's sake. And so"--she looked
at him proudly--"you can't lose."

"Thank you. Thank you," he said in a low voice.

She sighed. "How I envy you! You LIVE. I can simply be alive.
Sometimes I feel as if I were sitting in a railway station waiting to
begin my journey--waiting for a train that's late--nobody knows how
late. Simply alive--that's all."

"That's a great deal," he said. He was looking round at the sky, at
the horizon, at the fields far and near, at her. "A great deal," he
repeated.

"You feel that, too?" She smiled. "I suppose I should live on through
anything and everything, because, away down under the surface, where
even the worst storms can't reach, there's always a sort of tremendous
joy--the sense of being alive--just alive." She drew a long breath.
"Often when I've been--anything but happy--a little while ago, for
instance--I suddenly have a feeling of ecstasy. I say to myself: Yes,
I'm unhappy, but--I'm ALIVE!"

He made a sudden impulsive movement toward her, then restrained
himself, pressed his lips together and fell back on his elbow.

"I suppose I ought to be ashamed of myself,' she added.

"You mustn't say that." He was sitting up, was speaking with all his
energy. "All that you were telling me a while ago to encourage me
applies to you, too--and more--more. You DO live. You ARE what you
long to be. That ideal you're always trying to grasp--don't you know
why you can't grasp it, Pauline? Because it's your own self, your own
image reflected as in a mirror."

He broke off abruptly, acutely conscious that he was leaning far over
the barrier between them. There was a distant shout, from vigorous,
boyish lungs. Gardiner, mad with the joy of healthy seven, came
running and jumping across the field to land with a leap astride the
hillock, scattering wisps of hay over his mother and Scarborough.
Pauline turned without getting up, caught her boy by the arms and with
mock violence shook and thrust him deep down into the damaged hillock.
She seemed to be making an outlet for some happiness too great to be
contained. He laughed and shouted and struggled, pushed and pulled
her. Her hat fell off, her hair loosened and the sun showered gold of
many shades upon it. She released him and stood up, straightening and
smo