was bowed, and his hands clenched on
his knees, and he had spoken again in the muttering voice he had begun
with.

"I suppose you were," she said with a little wistful note in her voice
that neither of them knew was there. "But never mind; I want to talk
now about what we are both to do next. If you are really feeling as
badly as you say about my being sick, I don't suppose you mind how long
I take to get well. I'm afraid it will be quite a little while longer."

He started to speak, but she held up one hand and stopped him.

"And after that I'll go back to Lucille, if Billy isn't home."

"He is," said Francis. "He came over in one of the transports in July,
while you were ill. That was the only reason I didn't drag Lucille up
here."

"Where are they?" demanded Marjorie a little blankly. But after all
she should have expected this.

"In the flat you and Lucille had. Lucille likes it."

"How can she?" sighed Marjorie. "Well, she's never tried this. . . .
I wonder what I'd better do? I think I heard something about a place
where they have flats just for business women. Perhaps Billy could
arrange for me to get one before they're all gone. He always loved
attending to things like that for people. I can't go back to Cousin
Anna. I've been through too much. Why, you mayn't think it, but I'm
grown up, Francis! I'm about twenty years older than that foolish
little girl you married. I--I wonder I haven't wrinkles and a little
wisp of fuzzy gray hair!" she added, trying to smile.

"Don't!" said Francis again, looking at her childish face, with its
showers of loose curls, that was trying to be so brave. He dropped his
eyes again to the clenched hands that were tensed, one on either knee.
"I was foolish and young, too, then," he added. "I think I'm older,
too."

"Yes . . . it was a mistake," she said in a far-off voice.

"I wish it hadn't been," he said.

"Why, I was thinking that, too!" she said. "Isn't it a pity that we
weren't as old then as we are now! Responsible, I mean, and wanting as
much to do right things. That was one thing about it all. I want to
do right more than anything else these days; and I think you do, too.
And it wasn't in style then--do you remember our talking it over up
here once, when we were having a little friendly spat? But I
suppose----"

"I suppose you would never have married me if you'd been so old and
wise," he said.

She considered.

"But neither would yo