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"Why wait a minute, then?" I ventured, with faint bitterness, because his "difficulties" seemed so small compared with mine. He was in the right in everything. This was his home. The dear Becketts were his people. All the world was his. "I wait a minute, because something has to be told you before I can ask you to answer any more questions.

Dierdre broke in. "But she may marry. Or she may go back to nursing again. I wish I could help you. It would make me happy. It would be helping myself, more than you! And we could begin soon. I could buy you paints from a list you'd give me. If we succeeded, you could surprise your sister and the Becketts. It would be splendid."

If I were killed, Brian would grieve: but he had the Becketts to love and care for him, and he had Dierdre: no use disguising that fact from my intelligence, after the episode of the dog! What a chance for me to disappear, having done for Brian all I could do! Oh, why didn't I add another prayer to my last, and beg God to let me die that minute?

From what I hear, the three have spent most of their time at the piano in the private salon which the Becketts invited the O'Farrells to engage. Now, as I write, we are making our headquarters in Compiègne, sleeping there, and sightseeing by day on what they call the "Noyon Front."

I said that a very young youth brought up the news of the Becketts' arrival. He'd merely announced that "un monsieur et une dame" had called. Apparently they had given no names, no cards. But in truth there were cards, which had been mislaid, or in other words left upon the desk in the bureau, with the numbers of both our rooms scrawled on them in pencil.

Jim's friend the one with whom he had the bet wired to the Becketts that he was ill, but not dangerously, and they weren't to come over to France. It was only when he reached home that they knew how serious the trouble had been.

It's only another kind of sight. "I shan't see the wreck and misery you others will have to see," he says. "Horrors don't exist any more for my eyes. I shall see the country in all its beauty as it was before the war. And who knows but I shall find my dog?" He doesn't feel that he accepts charity from the Becketts. He believes, with a kind of modest pride, that we're really indispensable.

"We're the Becketts, with your sister," she said. "Jimmy's father and mother. I expect you didn't meet him when they were getting engaged to each other at St. Raphael. But he loved your picture that he bought just before the war. He used to say, if only you'd signed it, his whole life might have been different. That was when he'd lost Mary, you see and he'd got hold of her name quite wrong.

Perhaps from talk they had she'll have a suggestion to make." "Oh no!" I cried. "I've no suggestion." "And you, Brian?" the old man persisted. Quickly I answered for my brother. "They never met! Brian couldn't know what Jim would have liked you to do." "It's true, I can't know," said Brian. "But a thought has come into my head. Shall I tell it to you?" "Yes!" the Becketts answered in a breath.

And if you wish if you have time we will take you to see also what the Boches have done to some of our other towns ah, but beautiful towns, of an importance! Lunéville, and Gerbévillers, and more many more. You should know what they are like before you go on to the Grande Couronne, where Nancy was saved in 1914." Of course the Becketts "wished." Of course they had time. "Molly, tell Mr. and Mrs.