The colour had faded out of Noel's face, and, with her head thrown back and her eyelids half-closed, she looked like a scornful young ghost. “If it is—I shan't live. I don't mean to—it's easy to die. I don't mean Daddy to know.” “Oh! my dear, my dear!” was all Leila could stammer. “Was it wrong, Leila?” “Wrong? I don't know—wrong? If it really is so—it was—unfortunate. But surely, surely—you're mistaken?” Noel shook her head. “I did it so that we should belong to each other. Nothing could have taken him from me.” Leila caught at the girl's words. “Then, my dear—he hasn't quite gone from you, you see?” Noel's lips formed a “No” which was inaudible. “But Daddy!” she whispered. Edward's face came before Leila so vividly that she could hardly see the girl for the tortured shape of it. Then the hedonist in her revolted against that ascetic vision. Her worldly judgment condemned and deplored this calamity, her instinct could not help applauding that hour of life and love, snatched out of the jaws of death. “Need he ever know?” she said. “I could never lie to Daddy. But it doesn't matter. Why should one go on living, when life is rotten?” Outside the sun was shining brightly, though it was late October. Leila got up from her knees. She stood at the window thinking hard. “My dear,” she said at last, “you mustn't get morbid. Look at me! I've had two husbands, and—and—well, a pretty stormy up and down time of it; and I daresay I've got lots of trouble before me. But I'm not going to cave in. Nor must you. The Piersons have plenty of pluck; you mustn't be a traitor to your blood. That's the last thing. Your boy would have told you to stick it. These are your 'trenches,' and you're not going to be downed, are you?” After she had spoken there was a long silence, before Noel said: “Give me a cigarette, Leila.” Leila produced the little flat case she carried. “That's brave,” she said. “Nothing's incurable at your age. Only one thing's incurable—getting old.” Noel laughed. “That's curable too, isn't it?” “Not without surrender.” Again there was a silence, while the blue fume from two cigarettes fast-smoked, rose towards the low ceiling. Then Noel got up from the divan, and went over to the piano. She was still in her hospital dress of lilac-coloured linen, and while she stood there touching the keys, playing a chord now, and then, Leila's heart felt hollow from compassion; she was so happy herself just now, and this child so very wretched!