* * * * * * *
Later from the balcony he and Grace watched these two loyal friends go down the road to their hotel, and stood there long after the sound of their footsteps had died away. Roger’s arm was round his wife, her dear head rested on his shoulder.
It was a beautiful evening, with a full moon flooding the valley and the towering snow mountains beyond with almost unearthly radiance, and no sound but the murmur of the river and the light breeze stirring the young leaves and white “candles” of the chestnuts.
London and the great busy world—all the tragedies and the shadows of the past—seemed very far away!
THE END