ed to me, you'd be saddled with the care of two
little children who've got a thoroughly unsatisfactory father, who can
always make life hateful for them and for you. No, Peter, it wouldn't be
fair--we must wait and see how things work out."

"At present," Peter said gloomily, "it looks as if things were working
out to a fair bust-up all round."

This was on the 30th of July.

Peter went up to London, intending to return on the first to stay over
the Bank Holiday, but he did not come. He wanted to be within easy reach
of recalling cablegram.

Meg got a wire from Miles on Saturday: "Try to come up for to-morrow and
Monday I can't leave town must see you."

And half an hour after it, came a note from Squire Walcote, asking her
to accept his escort, as he and Lady Mary were going up to the
Grosvenor, and hoped Meg would be their guest.

It was during their stay in London that Lady Mary and the Squire got the
greatest surprise of their whole lives.

Miles, looking bigger than ever in uniform, rushed in and demanded an
interview with Meg alone in their private room. He showed her a special
licence, and ordered, rather than requested, that she should marry him
at once.

"I can't," she said, "it's no use asking me ... I _can't_."

"Listen; have you any objection to me?"

Meg pulled a little away from him and pretended to look him up and down.
"No ... in fact ... I love every bit of you--especially your boots."

"Have you thought how likely it is that I may not come back ... if
there's war?"

"Don't!" said Meg. "Don't put it into words."

"Then why won't you marry me, and let me feel that, whether I'm killed
or not, I've had the thing I wanted most in this world?"

"Dear, I can't help it, but I feel if I married you now ... you would
never come back ... but if I wait ... if I don't try to grasp this
wonderful thing too greedily ... it will come to us both. I _daren't_
marry you, Miles."

"Suppose I'm all smashed up ... I couldn't ask you then ... suppose I
come back minus an arm or a leg, or blind or something?"

"If the least little bit of you comes back, I'll marry that; not you or
anyone else could stop me then."

"You'd make it easier all round if you'd marry me now...."

"That's it ... I don't want it to be easier. If I was your wife, how
could I go on being nurse to those children?"

"I wouldn't stop you--you could go back to Miss Ross and do just
exactly what you're doing. I agree with you--the chi