And there beneath them sat this morning a man who had, too, been young and splendid. But who was wrapped in no shining armor of illusion. He had come back a hero, but had been among them long enough to lose his halo. It was manifestly unfair. Jane resolved that she would keep in her heart always that vision of Evans as a shining knight. Whoever else forgot, she would not forget.
Evans, with his mother in the pew, looked straight ahead of him. He seemed worn and weary —a dark shadow set against the brightness of those comrades on the glowing glass.
After church, he waited in the aisle for Jane. “I’ll walk down with you. Mother is going to ride with Dr. Hallam.”
They walked a little way in silence, then he said, “Rusty is comfortable this morning.”
“Your mother told me over the telephone.”
He limped along at her side. “Jane, I didn’t sleep last night—thinking about it. It is a thing I can’t understand. A dreadful thing.”
“I understand. You love Rusty. It was because you love him so much——”
“But to let a woman do it. Jane, do you remember—years ago? That mad dog?”
She did remember. Evans had killed it in the road to save a child. It had been a horrible experience, but not for a moment had he hesitated.
“I wasn’t afraid then, Janey.”