done with all your ribbons?"

"What, the decorations? Oh, they're kicking about somewhere."

"You're not to let your Victoria Cross kick about, as you call it," said
Helena severely. "By the way, Peter, you've never told me yet--Oh, I saw
the bit in the _Times_. But I want _you_ to tell me about it. Won't you?"

She bent forward, all softness, her beautiful eyes on her companion.

"No!" said Peter with energy--"_never_!"

She considered him.

"Was it so awful?" she asked under her breath.

"For God's sake, don't ask questions!" said the boy angrily. "You know I
want to forget it. I shall never be quite right till I do forget it."

She was silent. It was his twin brother he had tried to save--staggering
back through a British barrage with the wounded man on his
shoulders--only to find, as he stumbled into the trench, that he had been
carrying the dead. He himself had spent six months in hospital from the
effects of wounds and shock. He had emerged to find himself a V. V. and
A. D. C. to his Army Commander; and apparently as gay and full of fun as
before. But his adoring mother and sisters knew very well that there were
sore spots in Peter.

Helena realized that she had touched one. She bent forward presently, and
laid her own hand on one of the hands that were handling the sculls.