“Tell me what it looks like,” said Boyce.

You might as well ask a savage in Central Africa to describe the interior of a submarine as the ordinary man to describe a woman’s hat.  My artless endeavours caused considerable merriment.  To hear Boyce’s gay laughter one would have thought he had never a care in the world ...

When I took my leave, Mrs. Boyce accompanied Marigold and myself to the front door.

“Did you ever hear of anything so dreadful?” she whispered, and I saw her lips quivering and the tears rolling down her cheeks.  “If he weren’t so brave and wonderful, I should break my heart.”

“What do you suppose you are yourself, my dear old friend,” said I over Marigold’s shoulder.

I went away greatly comforted.  Both of them were as brave as could be.  For the first time I took a more cheerful view of Boyce’s future.

On the evening before the Reception Betty was shown into the library.  It was late, getting on towards my bedtime, and I was nodding in front of the fire.

“I’m just in and out, Majy dear,” she said.  “I had to come.  I didn’t want to give you too many shocks.”  At my expression of alarm, she laughed.  “I’ve only run in to tell you that I’ve made up my mind to come to the Town Hall tomorrow.”

I looked at her, and I suppose my hands moved in a slight gesture.

“By that,” she said, “I suppose you mean you can never tell what I’m going to do next.”

“You’ve guessed it, my dear,” said I.

“Do you disapprove?”

“I couldn’t be so presumptuous.”

She bent over me and caught the lapels of my jacket.

“Oh, don’t be so dreadfully dignified.  I want you to understand.  Everybody is going to pay honour to-morrow to a man who has given everything he could to his country.  Don’t you think it would be petty of me if I stood out?  What have the dead things that have passed between us to do with my tribute as an Englishwoman?”

What indeed?  I asked her whether she was attending in her private capacity or as one of the representatives of the V.A.D. nurses.  I learned for the thousandth time that Betty Connor did not deal in half measures.  If she went at all, it was as Betty Connor that she would go.  Her aunts would accompany her.  It was part of the municipal ordering of things that the Town Clerk should have sent them the special cards of invitation.

“I think it my duty to go,” said Betty.

“If you think so, my dear,” said I, “then it is your duty.  So there’s nothing more to be said about it.”

Betty kissed the top of my head and went off.