She wondered what he was thinking of as they went in silence up the Wairoa. He had been talking continuously for hours and was tired. Was he thinking as she was of the marching men, of the men who were being huddled into hastily improvised camps, of the men hurrying into special night trains, of the scares from the sea, of the rumours that had sprung up everywhere ? She did not know.
He ran the Diana at full speed by the light of a half moon, and sat tense, his head a little forward, his hair pressed under a tweed cap, his hand ready to turn the launch from any snag that the river, flooded by heavy rains, might spring upon him.
Valerie had a sense of unreality when they turned into their own little bay. The peace of it was a challenge to the folly of a world gone mad. And why not turn one’s back on a foolish world and wait in peace for it to come to its senses again?
As they stood on the landing stage, their bags beside them, Dane took off his cap, turned to her, and put an arm about her shoulders.
“It’s good to come back to this, dear, isn’t it?”
She gave one look into his face and forgot the war.
The house was lit up. The dogs bounded to welcome them. The boys came out to the verandah. The light streamed through the three windows of the den into the shadows. And there was a delicate breath of spring about the still garden. The world was falling to pieces outside, but the old station kept its air of incorruptible peace.
II
Two months later Valerie rode alone one afternoon into Dargaville to get the papers and the mail. Dane had not been well for a day or two, and he had lain in his ham-
