en the bedroom door opened, Desmond lifted his head, in a distracted
attempt to see more of his wife than the shade would permit, and held
out his hand.

"Come, Ladybird. I want you."

She came at his bidding, and put her hand in his. But, unwittingly,
she stood no nearer than the action demanded; and in her bewildered
misery she forgot that he would expect her to stoop and kiss him. It
was a fatal omission--how fatal she did not realise till later.

He drew her closer with quiet decision; and she submitted, as she
would have submitted to anything he might have chosen to do just then.

"Am I so very dreadful that you can't bear to come near me?" he asked,
with a brave attempt at lightness.

"Oh, Theo, don't say that," she pleaded. It came too painfully near
the truth. "Only--I can't seem able to believe that--it is really
you."

"Well, I give you my word it _is_ really me--the very same Theo who
won the Punjab Cup, and danced with you at Lahore three months ago."
Then he bit his lip sharply; for the thought smote him that he might
never sit a pony or dance with her again.

The sob that had been clutching at her throat escaped, in spite of
herself. "Lahore!" she murmured. "It was all so beautiful at Lahore!"

"Don't cry about it, darling. It will be just as beautiful again, in
time. Sit down on the floor--here, close to me. I can't get a sight of
you any other way."

She sat down, but in such a position that he had only a scant view of
her tear-disfigured face. He pushed the damp ringlets back from her
forehead. In his eyes it was her misfortune, rather than her fault,
that she should be so inexorably chained to her own trouble.

Her spirit and her love revived under the magic of his touch. She
caught his hand and pressed it against her burning cheek. It was cool
and steady and sustaining--the hand of a brave man.

"Poor child," he said gently. "I'm an uncomfortable sort of husband
for you. But little accidents of this kind will happen to soldiers.
Don't say you wish you hadn't married this one!" And he smiled.

"No--no. But, Theo, did you get all these wounds and things trying to
save the Boy?"

"Yes; more or less."

"And it wasn't a scrap of use?"

"No. One had the satisfaction of killing the men who did for him. That
was all!"

"And you might just as well have come back strong and splendid, like
you went away?"

"No use thinking of what might have been, darling. We've got to set
our teeth and fa