The Rough Road Part 57

"Dear old Phineas? Has he come through? I've not had time to ask whether you've heard anything about him."

"Yes, he's flouris.h.i.+ng. He wrote to me. I've seen him."

"Praise the Lord!" cried Doggie. "My dear, there's no one on earth, save you, whom I should so much love to see as Phineas. If he's there, fetch him along."

Peggy nodded and smiled mysteriously and went away down the ward. And Doggie thought: "Thank G.o.d, Peggy has the strength to face the world--and thank G.o.d Phineas has come through." He closed his eyes, feeling rather tired, thinking of Phineas. Of his last words as he pa.s.sed him stretcher-borne in the trench. Of the devotion of the man.

Of his future. Well, never mind his future. In all his vague post-war schemes for reorganization of the social system, Phineas had his place. No further need for dear old Phineas to stand in light green and gold outside a picture palace. He had thought it out long ago, although he had never said a word to Phineas. Now he could set the poor chap's mind at rest for ever.

He looked round contentedly, and saw Peggy and a companion coming down the ward, together. But it was not Phineas. It was a girl in black.

He raised himself, forgetful of exquisite pain, on his right elbow, and stared in a thrill of amazement.

And Jeanne came to him, and there were no longer ghosts behind her eyes, for they shone like stars.