ince
Bertrand's death, and he was not apparently minded to lift it even for
her benefit.

Yet she was glad to have him with her, for Noel had elected to go with
Mordaunt; and though she was quite willing to be left alone, she found
Max's presence a help. She had seen but little of him until the moment
that they stood together looking down upon the passing procession.

It was a grey day. Down on the shore the long waves rolled in to break in
wide lines of surf up the rock-strewn beach. The thunder of their
breaking mingled with the roll of muffled drums. The full honours of a
soldier's funeral were to be accorded to the man who had died before
France could make amends.

Slowly the procession wound along the _plage_, and back upon Chris's
memory flashed the day when she and Cinders had waited at the garden gate
to see the soldiers pass. She saw again the handsome face of the young
officer marching behind his men, the sudden animation leaping into it at
sight of her, the eagerness with which he turned to greet her, his
momentary hesitation at her request, his smiling surrender. What would
have happened, she asked herself, if he had managed to resist her that
day? Had that been the beginning of his downfall? Might he otherwise
have passed on unscathed?

A sudden sense of coldness assailed her. The street below was empty. She
stood alone. She leaned her head against the window-frame. How grey it
was!

"Sit down!" said Max practically.

She started. "Oh, Max!" she said weakly.

"Here you are," he said, and guided her down into a chair. "That's the
way. Now lean back and shut your eyes."

She obeyed him, without question, as she always did. A vague sense of
consolation began to steal through her. His hand, holding hers, dispelled
the loneliness.

After a while she opened her eyes and found him watching her. "Oh, Max,"
she said, "I'm so glad you are here."

"It seems as well," he rejoined, rather grimly. "Don't you think it's
time you began to behave rationally?"

"Have I been very silly?" she asked.

"Very, I should say." He sat down on the arm of her chair, and drew her
head to lean against him, a very rare demonstration with him.

She relaxed with a sigh. "I can't help it," she said wistfully. "I used
to think life was just splendid--it was good to be alive. And now--I
sometimes wish I'd never been born."

"Which is a mistake," said Max. "There's no time for that sort of thing.
Besides, it's futile. Now, d