Radmore had not been the only man who had felt sorry for her, and who had
made friends with her. But unlike the other men, who were all more or
less in love with her, he had liked Colonel Crofton. During his visit to
Fildy Fe Manor, the liking had hardened into serious regard. He had been
surprised, rather distressed, to find how much less well-off they had
appeared here, at home, than when the Colonel had been on so-called
active service. It had also become plain to him--though he was not a man
to look out for such things--that the husband and wife were now on very
indifferent terms, the one with the other, and, on the whole, he blamed
the wife--and then, just before he had started for home again, had come
the surprising news of Colonel Crofton's death!

In her letter to one who was, after all, only an acquaintance, the
young widow had gone into no details. But, just by chance, Radmore had
seen a paragraph in a week-old London paper containing an account of the
inquest. Colonel Crofton had committed suicide, a result, it was stated,
of depression owing to shell-shock. "Shell-shock" gave Radmore pause. He
felt quite sure that Colonel Crofton had never--to use a now familiar
paraphrase--heard a shot fired in anger. The fact that his war service
had been far from the Front had always been a subject of bitter complaint
on the old soldier's part.

Radmore had written a sympathetic note to Mrs. Crofton, telling her the
date of his return, and now--almost without his knowing how and why--they
had become intimate, meeting almost daily, lunching or dining together
incessantly, Radmore naturally gratified at the admiration his lovely
companion--she had grown even prettier since he had last seen
her--obviously excited.

And yet, though he had become such "pals" with her, and though he missed