‘G’night, Judith. We’ll look out for you.’ ‘I’ll be there.’ ‘Goo’night.’ ‘Good-night.’ Judith ran home, shutting eyes to the clouds, ears to the wind, and with the slam of the front door behind her striving to ignore the God of envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness whose portents were abroad in the sky. ‘To-morrow they are coming again and bringing Roddy. To-morrow I shall see Roddy. O God, be merciful!’ * * * * * Towards dawn she woke and heard the blind, drearily sighing, futile hurry and hiss of the rain,--and said aloud in the darkness: ‘How can I bear it?’ Yet lured by sick fantastic hope she crossed the river that morning and made her way to the pond. There was nobody there, save one small boy, sliding upon the ice through several inches of water and throwing up before him in his swift career two separate and divided fountains. Then that was the end. They were lost again. They would not come back, they would not write, she would never go to London to see them. Even Julian would forget about her. They did not care, the rain was glad, there was nothing in the wide world to give her comfort. She turned from the rain-blurred place where their unreal lost images mocked at and confused her,--dreams within the far-off dream of happy yesterday. 3 It was some time in the middle of the war that she knew for certain that Julian was at the front. She heard it from the old next door gardener, who had given her apples and pears long ago, and it was from the grandmother herself that he knew it. She had written to tell him to plant fresh rose-buds and to keep the tennis lawn in perfect order, for very soon, directly the war was over, the grandchildren were to have the house for their own, as a place for week-ends and holidays. Mr. Julian was at the front, safe so far, God be thanked, and Mr. Charlie had just been called up; but the fighting, so the grandmother said, would be over before ever he went to France. Then, nourished afresh on new hopes, desires, and terrors, the children next door came back night after night in dreams. Julian in uniform came suddenly into the library. He said: ‘I’ve come to say good-bye.’ ‘Good-bye? Are you going back to the front?’ ‘Yes. In a minute. Can’t you hear my train?’ She listened and heard the train-whistle. ‘Charlie’s going too--He’ll be here in a minute. Good-bye, Judith.’ She put out her hand and he took it and then bent down with a sort of grin and kissed her. He said: ‘That’s what men do when they’re going to the front.’ She thought with pleasure: ‘Then Charlie will want to kiss me too;’ and she looked out of the window, hoping to see him. It was impenetrably dark, and she thought anxiously: ‘He won’t be able to find his way. He always hated the dark.’ ‘Come on,’ said Julian. ‘You must come and wave good-bye to me.’ But still she delayed and peered out, looking with growing panic for Charlie.