Roger took her hands in his.
"You poor little child," he said; "you poor little child."
She did not cry. She simply looked up at him, frozen-white. "Oh, it wasn't fair for him to go—that way. He tried so hard. He tried so hard."
"I know. And it was a great fight he put up, you must remember that."
"But to fail—at the last."
"You mustn't think of that. Somehow I can see Barry still fighting, and winning. One of a glorious company."
"A glorious company—Barry?"
"Yes. Why not? We are judged by the fight we make, not by our victory."
She drew a long breath. "Everybody else has been sorry. Nobody else could seem to understand."
"Perhaps I understand," he said, "because I know what it is to fight—and fail."