“Bless you,” said Norah. “I would rather lose a good many of my possessions than that.” They smiled at each other; and, being an undemonstrative pair, the smile was a caress.
“Isn’t this going to be a Christmas!” Norah said. “I’ve been lying awake for ever so long, trying to realize it. You alive again——”
“I never was dead,” said Jim indignantly.
“It was a horribly good imitation. And Wally here, and even Harry; and Major Hunt home; and Geoff getting stronger every day. And Dad grown twenty years younger.”
“And you too, I guess—judging by what you looked like the night I came home.”
“Oh, I’ve got turned and made up to look like new,” said Norah. She faltered a little. “Jimmy, I’ve been saying my prayers—hard.”
“I’ve done that, too,” said Jim. There was a long, contented silence.
“And somehow, now, I know you’ll be all right—both of you,” Norah said. “I just feel certain about it. Before—ever since the war began—I was always horribly afraid, but now I’m not afraid any more. It can’t last for ever; and some day we’ll all go back.”
“And that will be the best thing in the world,” said Jim.
“The very best,” she said.