expect
it, Laura glanced up at his large-featured face with soft brown eyes
full of admiring affection, and the scar on his cheek from a shrapnel
wound still had power to move her. For he had "done splendidly" in the
war, enlisting in 1915 and showing marked courage, though his very
highly-developed instinct for self-preservation had enabled him to
escape dangers where some men might have been caught. No wonder that
as Laura stood there with her hand through his strong arm, she thrilled
to the certainty that he would break with ease through every obstacle
in life, both for himself and her.

"I'm sorry to have kept you so long," she said. "But I think we have
fixed up everything about the Fete for the Women's Convalescent Home
now. We are so short of funds that we must do something."

"Yes," said Mr. Graham, "the people who used to support it haven't the
money to give any longer; and those who have it, won't give, I suppose."

"Oh, don't let us start that all over again," said Mrs. Graham.
"Arthur, you will take cold standing here in the night air. Laura,
won't you come in for a few minutes?"

But Laura had no desire to share that cosy half-hour by the fire during
which Mr. Graham would press his Lizzie to pile on coal and put more
sugar in her cocoa for the good of her health, and she would press him
to take a little whisky and hot water--in spite of the high price--for
the same reason.

_Chapter IV_

_The Three Men_

Miss Ethel glanced out of the bedroom window next morning as she was
opening it more widely, and suddenly, as she looked, every muscle
stiffened. What were those three men doing a few yards beyond the
privet hedge? But her reason refused to let in the thought that
followed. It was preposterous to imagine they would start building
there first, with all the field to choose from. Besides, she had never
heard of the land being sold--the board was still in its place. Of
course, if the land had been sold, the board would have been removed.

She knelt down to say her prayers, beginning with the very same which
she used to repeat when she was a little girl by her mother's knee:
only the numbers of near relatives then mentioned by name had since
dwindled, one by one, as they passed over that bridge from life to
eternal life. Then "Our Father"--but the thought of the three men came
in between, and she found herself saying "Amen" without having prayed
at all. Then she started over again.