house. They had been cleaned and fresh water
put in them; she was allowed to do as little work as possible, but the
empty flower-basket and the scissors stood waiting at her hand. The
gardener would really have preferred to have done the flower-cutting
himself, but Aunt Janet had always insisted upon doing it, and Joan
carried on the custom. There were only a few late roses left, but she
gathered an armful of big white daisies.

As she came back from the hall Joan saw Dick waiting for her. The maid
had let him in and gone to find "Miss Joan." Strangely enough the first
thought that came into her mind was not a memory of the last time that
they had met or a wonder as to why he was here; she could see that he
was in khaki, and to her it meant only one thing. He was going to the
front, he had come to say good-bye to her before he went. All the colour
left her face, she stared at him, the basket swinging on her arm, the
daisies clutched against her black dress.

"Joan," Dick said quickly; he came towards her. "Joan, didn't the maid
find you, didn't they tell you I was here? What's the matter, dear; why
are you frightened?"

He took the flowers and the basket from her and laid them down on the
hall table. Mary coming back at the moment, saw them standing hand in
hand, and ran to the kitchen to tell the others that Miss Joan's young
man had come at last.

"Isn't there somewhere you can take me where we can talk?" Dick was
saying. "I have such an awful lot to say to you."

"You have come to say good-bye," Joan answered. She looked up at him,
her lips quivered a little. "You are going out there."

Then he knew why she had been afraid, and behind his pity he was glad.

"Joan," he whispered again, and quite simply she drew closer to him and
laid her cheek against his coat, "does it really matter to you, dear?"

His arms were round her, yet they did not hold her as tightly as she
clung to him. "Must you go?" she said breathlessly. "There are such
hundreds of others; must you go?"

Dick could not find any words to put the great beating of his heart
into, so he just held her close and laid his lips, against her hair.

"Take me into that little room where I first saw you," he said
presently. "I have remembered it often, Joan; I have always wanted to
come back to it, and have you explain things to me there."

She drew a little away and looked up at him. "What you thought of me the
other night"--she spoke of it is yesterda