said. "If it were only his happiness and prosperity we had to think of we might be justified. But it might be his soul we were hurting."
The woman had grown calm. "And you," she asked, "what will you do?"
Betty smiled. "Oh, nothing very heroic!" she answered. "I shall have dad to look after for years to come. We shall travel. I'm fond of travelling. And afterwards—oh! there are heaps of things I want to do that will interest me and keep me busy."
The woman glanced at the clock. The time had slipped by; it was nearly eight. "He'll guess where I've been," she said.
"What will you tell him?" the girl asked.
"Seems to me," answered the woman, "I may as well tell him the truth: that I've had a bit of a clack with you. That you will do all you can to help him. That's right, isn't it?"
The girl nodded.
The woman took the girl's face in her two hands.
"Not sure you're not getting the best of it," she said. "I often used to lie awake beside my man, and wish I could always think of him as he was when I first met him: brave and handsome, with his loving ways and his kind heart. I saw him again when he lay dead, and all my love came
