On two or three occasions they had driven in a low four-wheeled pony-chaise for half-an-hour or so, but they had not yet ventured beyond the confines of the park. Francis had expressed no surprise at anything he had seen, indeed he had not appeared to notice any particular details, but he had repeatedly spoken of his delight in being out of doors again, and had said that he was looking forward to the day when he should see Bessmoor again. During the early afternoon he rested, and she joined him again later, to spend the remainder of the day with him in his sitting-room, which now held for her so many associations. There had been a time when she had wondered what they would find to talk about, what line of conversation could be pursued with one whose mentality was bounded by such extraordinary limitations; whose outlook was that of a man, with a man's rational intelligence and consciousness, hampered by the retrospective knowledge of a little child. For the first few days of their companionship she had indeed known moments of perplexity, moments during which she had racked her brain for a suitable remark, a new idea to interest him; for talk is difficult between new acquaintances when such matters as politics, literature and current events are taboo, and personalities are to be avoided; but since her mental attitude towards him had changed and love had taken possession of her, this embarrassment had vanished. Two people in the first fine rapture of mutual affection do not, presumably, discuss any of the weighty matters which occupy the attention of ordinary individuals, nor, it is safe to say, would their conversation be of the smallest interest to any one but themselves. It is possible that lovers spend a certain portion of their time in a silence more expressive than words; for the rest, let those who have been in a similar situation fill in the blanks--experience will have taught them understanding. That Francis realised his condition to some degree was evident, for he occasionally asked for enlightenment on a point he did not understand; also he would sometimes be puzzled over the meanings of words. He would use one without thinking, and then hesitate, in doubt as to whether it was the right one to convey his meaning. He would treat the matter lightly, making a joke of it, but would be obviously relieved when Philippa assured him that it was correct. And it was almost invariably correct, for it seemed that although his memory failed him, he drew unknowingly upon a subconscious power which worked independently--a store of knowledge which existed in his brain, but of which he had mislaid the key. She was reading to him one day, a light story from a magazine, which described an act of gallantry on the part of the soldier hero, and ended in his death. It concluded with a sentence in which the expression "facing fearful odds" was used. When she finished reading Francis said suddenly--