"I've always loved Appleyard," Andrew said slowly, looking about the big hall; "but somehow it doesn't seem homey to me now. There's something wanting; it's too big, or I'm better used to a boat."
"You miss Dick," Elsie answered softly, with a touch of color in her face. "Though he was often ill, it's wonderful how bright he was."
"Yes; I miss him all the time—but perhaps not as you do."
Andrew's voice was full of sympathy, and Elsie gave him a quick glance.
"You must know the truth, Andrew," she said impulsively. "At first I did feel miserably guilty for having sent Dick on a dangerous errand when I knew he was ill—"
"Dick went because he wanted to go," Andrew interrupted. "He never shirked a risk, and least of all when he could help his friends."
"But if I had loved Dick in the way you seem to think I loved him—perhaps I would not have been brave enough to let him go—I can't be sure."
"You didn't love him in that way?"
Elsie looked down at the book which lay in her lap. Her face was flooded with color, but a smile played about her lips.
"I would never have married Dick," she said, in a voice so low that Andrew had to lean toward her to catch her words.