passing fancy, had shown her something in his soul which she knew to be
Divine. He was not, it seemed, so aloof as she had imagined him to be.
The friendship between himself and Tommy was not the one-sided affair
that she and a good many others had always believed it. He cared for
Tommy, cared very deeply. Somehow that fact made a vast difference to
her, such a difference as seemed to reach to the very centre of her
being. She felt as if she had underrated something great.

The rush of the rain on the roof of the verandah seemed to make coherent
thought impossible. She gazed at the meal before her and wondered if she
could bring herself to partake of it. Peter had put everything ready to
her hand, and in justice to him she felt as if she ought to make the
attempt. But a leaden weariness was upon her. She felt more inclined to
sink back in her chair and sleep.

There came a sound behind her, and she was aware of someone entering.
She fancied it was Peter returned to mark her progress, and stretched
her hand to the coffee-urn. But ere she touched it she knew that she was
mistaken. She turned and saw Monck.

By the grey light of the morning his face startled her. She had never
seen it look so haggard. But out of it the dark eyes shone, alert and
indomitable, albeit she suspected that they had not slept for many
hours.

He made her a brief bow. "May I join you?" he said.

His manner was formal, but she could not stand on her dignity with him
at that moment. Impulsively, almost involuntarily it seemed to her
later, she rose, offering him both her hands. "Captain Monck," she said,