of fear and something of sulkiness. He
was on the defensive, willing to be very kind, but resolute not to be
nagged nor argued with. "Don't," he protested, "don't take it like
that."

"I'm sorry, dear," she said more quietly. "It hit me, rather.
To-morrow is so soon, and a year is such a long, long time."

"Not so very. A year's nothing. Besides, I've got to go; it's no use
making a fuss, is it?"

"I won't make a fuss."

"There'll be a good deal to do. I wanted you to look over my things
to-night. I'll help you carry them in here, shall I?"

She rose mechanically and went into the erstwhile dressing-room
quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping children. He waited in the
doorway, and she handed out to him pile after pile of his underwear,
following the last consignment by carrying out a big armful herself.
They returned to the dining-room and laid the garments on the table.

"Sorry to give you so much trouble all at once," he apologised.

He lighted a pipe and sat down again by the fire, while she stood over
the heaps on the table, sorting them with neat fingers that had
learned a very considerable speed in such tasks, and picking out here
and there a shirt or vest which needed further attention. She was
white with a kind of grey whiteness like ashes, and in her heart and
throat heavy weights of tears lay. She talked automatically to keep
herself from exhibition of despair.

"I'll darn that; it's as good as new except for one thin patch. These
shirts have lasted very well, haven't they? The colour's hardly faded
at all. You ought to have had new vests, but I daresay you'll have
ample opportunity for buying them. To-morrow morning I'll sponge your
navy suit with ammonia. What time are you going? _T-t-ten
o'clock_?...

"I'll sponge it before breakfast. You may want to put it on. I'm going
to look for that glove you lost; it was a seven-and-sixpenny pair; we
ought to find it." And things like this she continued to say to him,
lest, the fantastic fancy of her grief whispered to her, he should
hear her heart painfully breaking.

He answered with alacrity, the same alacrity of response which he had
shown, at dinner; and he handed to her the packet of chocolates,
asking jocularly: "Isn't she going to eat her sweets?"

She broke one slowly between her teeth again; it had an extraordinary
bitter taste which remained in the mouth. She hated the packet of
sweets for its smug, silly mission of comfort.

Comfort!