father went over to France because he was sorry for all the poor little
children who had been hurt, and for all the people who had suffered and
suffered until it seemed as if they must not suffer any more--and he
wanted to help them, and--and--"

But here he stumbled and stopped. "I tell you, Teddy," he said, as man
to man, "it is going to hurt awfully, not to see him. But you've got
to be careful not to be too sorry--because there's your Mother to think
of."

"Is she crying now?"

"Yes. Down there on her bed. Could you be very brave if you went
down, and told her not to be sorry?"

"Brave, like my Daddy?"

"Yes."

Margaret-Mary was too young to understand--she was easily comforted.
Derry sang a little song and her eyes drooped.

But downstairs the little son who was brave like his father, sat on the
edge of the bed, and held his mother's hand. "He's in Paradise with
the purple camels, Mother, and he's a shining soul--."

It was a week before Jean went with Derry to see Margaret. It had been
a week of strange happenings, of being made love to by Derry and of
getting Daddy ready to go away. She had reached heights and depths,
alternately. She had been feverishly radiant when with her lover. She