nly say in a moment: 'Here! Pitch it over!'
and she would have to. She said tranquilly:

"You remember that night when Cyril Morland went away, and Noel behaved
so strangely. Well, my dear; she is going to have a child at the
beginning of April. The poor boy is dead, Bob; he died for the Country."

She saw the red tide flow up into his face.

"What!"

"Poor Edward is dreadfully upset. We must do what we can. I blame
myself." By instinct she used those words.

"Blame yourself? Stuff! That young--!" He stopped.

Thirza said quietly: "No, Bob; of the two, I'm sure it was Noel; she
was desperate that day. Don't you remember her face? Oh! this war! It's
turned the whole world upside down. That's the only comfort; nothing's
normal."

Bob Pierson possessed beyond most men the secret of happiness, for he
was always absorbed in the moment, to the point of unself-consciousness.
Eating an egg, cutting down a tree, sitting on a Tribunal, making up
his accounts, planting potatoes, looking at the moon, riding his cob,
reading the Lessons--no part of him stood aside to see how he was doing
it, or wonder why he was doing it, or not doing it better. He grew like
a cork-tree, and acted like a sturdy and well-natured dog. His griefs,
angers, and enjoyments were simple as a child's, or as his somewhat
noisy slumbers. They were notably well-suited, for Thirza had the same
secret of happiness, though her, absorption in the moment did not--as
became a woman--prevent her being conscious of others; indeed, such
formed the chief subject of her absorptions. One might say that they
neither of them had philosophy yet were as philosophic a couple as one
could meet on this earth of the self-conscious. Daily life to these two
was still of simple savour. To be absorbed in life--the queer endless
tissue of moments and things felt and done and said and made, the odd
inspiriting conjunctions of countless people--was natural to them;
but they never thought whether they were absorbed or not, or had any
particular attitude to Life or Death--a great blessing at the epoch in
which they were living.

Bob Pierson, then, paced the room, so absorbed in his dismay and
concern, that he was almost happy.

"By Jove!" he said, "what a ghastly thing!

"Nollie, of all people! I feel perfectly wretched, Thirza; wretched
beyond words." But with each repetition his voice grew cheerier, and
Thirza felt that he was already over the worst.

"Your coffee's getting