Father and Daughter
"My baby! You thought of your old father even then?"
"I'm always thinking of you, Daddy, because you and I are all each other has got. That sounds queer, but you know what I mean."
The calm, strong young woman in blue and white came back into the room. "She mustn't talk," she said, to the blind man. "To-morrow, perhaps. Come away now."
"Don't take him away from me," pleaded Barbara. "We'll be very good and not say a single word, won't we?"
"Not a word," he answered, "if it isn't best."
Peaceful Sleep
The afternoon wore away to sunset, the shadows grew long, and Barbara lay quietly, with her little hand in his. Long lines of light came over the hills and brought into the room some subtle suggestion of colour. Gradually, the pain came back, so keenly that it was not to be borne, and the kind woman with the bit of silver in her hand leaned over the bed once more. Quickly, the poppies brought their divine gift of peace again. And so, Barbara slept.
Then Ambrose North gently loosened the still fingers that were interlaced with his, bent over, and, so gently as not to waken her, took her boy-lover's kiss from her lips.