ts of wind. But from
far away, after he had passed Ipscombe, a light from one of the windows
of the farm shone out, as though beckoning him to her. Suddenly from the
mouth of the farm, he saw a bicycle approaching. The rider was Janet
Leighton. She passed him with a wave and a smile.

"Going to a Food meeting! But Rachel's at home."

What a nice woman! Looking back over the couple of months since he had
known the inmates of the farm, he realized how much he had come to like
Janet Leighton. So unselfish, so full of thought for others, so modest
for herself! There couldn't be a better friend for Rachel; her friendship
itself was a testimonial; he reassured himself by the mere thought of
her.

When he drew up at the farm, Hastings with a lantern in his hand was just
disappearing towards the hill, and the two girls, Betty and Jenny, passed
him, each with a young man, two members, in fact, of his own Corps, John
Dempsey and another. They explained that they were off to a Red Cross
Concert in the village hall. Ellesborough's pulse beat quicker as he
parted from them, for he realized that he would find Rachel alone in the
farm.

Yes, there she was at the open door, greeting him with a quiet face--a
smile even. She led the way into the sitting-room, where she had just
drawn down the blinds and closed the curtains of the window looking on
the farm-yard. But his arrival had interrupted her before she could do
the same for the window looking on the Down. Neither of them thought of
it. Each was absorbed in the mere presence of the other.

Rachel was in her black Sunday dress of some silky stuff. Her throat was
uncovered, and her shapely arms showed through the thin sleeves. The
black and white softened and refined something overblown and sensuous in
her beauty. Her manner, too, had lost its confident, provocative note.
Ellesborough had never seen her so adorable, so desirable. But her
self-command dictated his. He took the seat to which she pointed him;
while she herself brought a chair to the other side of the fire, putting
on another log with a steady hand, and a remark about the wind that was
whistling outside. Then, one foot crossed over the other, her cheek
reddened by the fire, propped on her hand, and her eyes on the fresh
flame that was beginning to dance out of the wood, she asked him,--"You'd
like to hear it all?"

He made a sign of assent.

So in a quiet, even voice, she began with an account of her family and
e