"I wonder why he had to come so early," complained Isabel. "I wanted to change my dress. I didn't have time before dinner."
"He'll never know it," Madame assured her. "We'll excuse you dear, if you're through. Don't keep him waiting."
When the dining-room door closed, Rose turned to Madame. "Did I—"
"Most wonderfully."
"But the hardest part is still to come," she breathed, sadly.
"'I was ever a fighter, so one fight more.
The best and the last';"
Madame quoted, encouragingly.
Rose smiled—a little wan smile—as she pushed back her chair.
"Perhaps," she said, "the 'peace out of pain' may follow me."
She went, with faltering step, toward the other room, inwardly afraid.
Another hand met hers, with a reassuring clasp. "One step more, Rose.
Now then, forward, march, all flags unfurled."
When she went in, Allison came to meet her with outstretched hands. He had changed subtly, since she saw him last. Had light been poured over him, it would have changed him in much the same way.