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'Yes, this is she. This is Mrs. Nawn,' he heard her announce, calmly.

He closed his eyes tightly, pressing the receiver close to his ear.

'Sheilah.'

There was a short pause, and then, 'Oh, is it you?'

'Yes. It is I. I've just heard. I'm in a telephone-booth. The first one I could reach. I had to call you.'

'Oh, Roger——' and suddenly the voice that had travelled so far stumbled, like a tired child at the end of a long race, falling into arms held out to it.

There was another pause, in which the arms seemed to gather the child closer. There were, in fact, many pauses.

'When may I come?' finally said Roger.

'Do you still want to?'

'There's nothing in the world I want to do so much!'

'Later, then. In the spring, please.'

'All right, later. In the spring,' he replied. 'I understand. And until then, until the spring, every day and every hour, I will——' he didn't finish, but the quivering cable somehow conveyed his meaning to Sheilah.

'I know. I know,' she said.

The end