“But I do understand,” she told him swiftly, “I do, indeed.... Dan, you don’t know all that has happened—about me. They’ll tell you fast enough, so let me prepare you. When you were gone, instead of grieving and waiting, I, too, found a primitive part of me ... it was the women all about me that roused it, the women going overseas, making speeches, parading in uniforms—and I deliberately neglected our boy! Yes, I did! Ask father, for he disapproved but I would not listen. It was all something I don’t quite understand now, but a mighty powerful something while it lasted, and it was Thurley who taught me the lesson,” Lorraine continued in her sweet, even voice, neither sparing herself nor softening the details. Finally, she ended, “Even now, loving you a thousand times harder and adoring Boy, content always to be the homemaker, happy in it, there is, sometimes, a faint longing to go forth and do, what shall I name it? And so, I do understand your primitive part, Dan, and I shall be patient with it.... Perhaps it was worth the making the mistake to be able to understand you.” He gathered her in his arms. “Lorraine,” he whispered, “we both understand—” So they sat like two jolly, sentimental ghosts, until dawn filtered through dark clouds, talking as they had never talked before, of intangible, personal doubts and resolves, of many happy things to come and of the mistakes which lay behind. “You know the feeling, Dan! You have been big and keen enough to analyze it,” Lorraine summarized. “Now help other men to become used to ‘life as usual.’ Thurley calls stay-at-homes and quiet workers ‘gray angels’ because we are considered ineffectual, simply keeping things going. You can be a gray angel, Dan. It’s the most peaceful feeling in the world! Help the boys at Thurley’s Fincherie to be average men, neither heroes nor martyrs, talk to them as only a man who is one of them can talk,—there lies your duty and your salvation.” “I will,” Dan promised, “if you will talk to _me_!” CHAPTER XL The Fincherie Christmas tree had been a great success with a Mrs. Santa Claus in a foam of tulle and lace instead of an apple-dumpling gentleman in a red jerkin and leather boots. Every one had everything, so the rumor went, and Thurley sang carols until she repeated “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen” for the third time and fled in self-defence. Bliss Hobart had come into the Corners unexpectedly that morning and, after Thurley’s exit, he stood up to suggest three cheers for the Fincherie gray angel, which were given by a happy, well fed community who began to think about the joys of sleep. Ali Baba, who had always placed Hobart high in personal esteem, tramped over to inform him that Thurley was in the little breakfast room of the original Fincherie. Hobart moved in that direction with alacrity. He found Thurley sorting over a bundle of letters.