"Peggy!... You found something?"
"Yes! It had slipped through a ripped place down between the cloth and the lining."
"Good God! The message?"
"The message! Here it is." And from the bosom of my low dress I pulled the folded bit of khaki-yellow paper, warm from my heart. He took it from me. Our fingers touched, and his were cold as ice.
I stood still while he opened the paper and read the words which were of as great importance in his life now as when he wrote them. They had power to make all the difference to him and to another man between honour and dishonour.
For a long minute he was silent and motionless, reading or thinking. Then he looked up abruptly, and his eyes blazed into mine.
"Peggy!" he said in a level, monotonous tone which I knew hid deep feeling. "Do you realize what this means to me?"
"Yes," I answered. "I realize fully. I've dreamed of a moment like this for you. I've lived for it, for weeks and months that seem like years."
"And that it should come to me from you!"
"I hoped—I prayed."