They started to walk back among the shocks of corn; but they had not gone many yards when Gracie came running after them, reached them, flung her arms about Avery.
"Good-bye, darling Avery!" she said.
Avery held her close. She was sobbing still, but the first wild anguish of her grief was past.
"Good-bye, darling!" Avery whispered, after a moment.
Gracie's arms tightened. "You think like Piers does?" she murmured. "You think poor Mikey is happier now?"
Avery paused an instant. The memory of Piers' look as he had uttered the words: "Choked with his own chain, poor devil!" seemed to grip her heart. Then: "Yes, dearie," she said softly. "I think as Piers does. I am glad—for poor Mikey's sake—that his troubles are over."
"Then I'll try and be glad too," sobbed poor Gracie. "But it's very, very difficult. Pat and I loved him so, and he—he loved us."
"My dear, that love won't die," Avery said gently.
"The gift immortal," said Crowther. "The only thing that counts."
She looked round at him quickly, but his eyes were gazing straight into the sunset—steadfast eyes that saw to the very heart of things.