And Jimmy Lethbridge saw her walk forward slowly and uncertainly to the man who had come back. With a shaking little cry of pure joy she fell on her knees beside the bed, and Peter put a trembling hand on her hair. Then Jimmy shut the door, and stared blankly in front of him.
It was Lizzie who roused him—Lizzie coming shyly into the room from the hall.
“I seed her come in,” she whispered. “She looked orl right. ’Ow is ’e?”
“He’s got his memory back, Lizzie,” he said gently. “But he’s forgotten the last three years.”
“Forgotten me, as ’e?” Her lips quivered.
“Yes, Lizzie. Forgotten everything—barrel-organ and all. He thinks he’s on sick leave from the war.”
“And she’s wiv ’im now, is she?”
“Yes—she’s with him, Lizzie.”
She took a deep breath—then she walked to the glass and arranged her hat—a dreadful hat with feathers in it.
“Well, I reckons I’d better be going. I don’t want to see ’im. It would break me ’eart. And I said good-bye to ’im that last night before the operation. So long, mister. I’ve ’ad me year—she can’t tike that away from me.”