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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEsomething had happened, someone had blundered.But she could not for the life of her thinkwhat.

He shivered; he quivered. All his vanity, allhis satisfaction in his own splendour, riding fell asa thunderbolt, fierce as a hawk at the head of hismen through the valley of death, had been shattered,destroyed. Stormed at by shot and shell, boldlywe rode and well, flashed through the valley ofdeath, volleyed and thundered—straight into LilyBriscoe and William Bankes. He quivered; heshivered.

Not for the world would she have spoken tohim, realising, from the familiar signs, his eyesaverted, and some curious gathering together ofhis person, as if he wrapped himself about andneeded privacy into which to regain his equilib-rium, that he was outraged and anguished. Shestroked James’s head; she transferred to him whatshe felt for her husband, and, as she watched himchalk yellow the white dress shirt of a gentlemanin the Army and Navy Stores catalogue, thoughtwhat a delight it would be to her should he turnout a great artist; and why should he not? Hehad a splendid forehead. Then, looking up, asher husband passed her once more, she wasrelieved to find that the ruin was veiled; domes-ticity triumphed; custom crooned its soothing52