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THE RETURN OF THE SOLDIER
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special and incredibly malicious decision of the Supreme Force. I was standing with eyes closed and my hands abstractedly stroking the hat that was the emblem of her martyrdom, and I was thinking of her in a way that was a prayer to her, when I heard her sharp cry. That she, whose essence was a patient silence, should cry out sharply, startled me strangely. I turned quickly.
She was standing up, and in her hand she held the photograph of Oliver that I keep on my dressing-table. It is his last photograph, the one taken just a week before he died.
"Who is this?" she asked.
"The only child Chris ever had. He died five years ago."
"Five years ago?"
Why did it matter so?
"Yes," I said.
"He died five years ago, my Dick."
