This thin, eager-faced young woman, of whom every one on the hospital staff spoke in such glowing terms, interested him enormously.  He could see that her year’s work had taken out of her about double what it would have taken out of any one less sensitively alive, and he made a shrewd guess that something over and above the mere hard work accounted for that curiously fine-drawn look which he had observed in her.

During a hastily snatched meal, before the advent of another batch of casualties, he had sounded Lady Arronby on the subject.  The latter shook her head.

“I can tell you very little.  I believe there was a bad love-affair just before the war.  All I know is that she was engaged and that the engagement was broken off very suddenly.”

“Humph!  And she’s been living on her reserves ever since.  Pack her off to England—­and do it quick.”

So October found Sara back in England once again, and as the train steamed into Monkshaven station, and her eager gaze fell on the little group of people on the platform, waiting to welcome her return, she felt a sudden rush of tears to her eyes.

She winked them away, and leaned out of the window.  They were all there—­big Dick Selwyn, and Molly, looking like a masquerading Venus in her V.A.D. uniform, the Lavender Lady and Miles, and—­radiant and well-turned-out as ever—­Mile’s wife.

The Herrick’s wedding had taken place very unobtrusively.  About a month after Sara had crossed to France, Miles and Audrey had walked quietly into church one morning at nine o’clock and got married.

Monkshaven had been frankly disappointed.  The gossips, who had so frequently partaken of Audrey’s hospitality and then discussed her acrimoniously, had counted upon the lavish entertainment with which, even in war-time, the wedding of a millionaire’s widow might be expected to be celebrated.

Instead of which, there had been this “hole-and-corner” sort of marriage, as the disappointed femininity of Monkshaven chose to call it, and, after a very brief honeymoon, Miles and Audrey had returned and thrown themselves heart and soul into the work of organizing and equipping a convalescent hospital for officers, of which Audrey had undertaken to bear the entire cost.

Henceforth the mouths of Audrey’s detractors were closed.  She was no longer “that shocking little widow with the dyed hair,” but a woman who had married into a branch of one of the oldest families in the county, and whose immense private fortune had enabled her to give substantial help to her country in its need.

“I think it’s simply splendid of you, Audrey,” declared Sara warmly, as they were all partaking of tea at Greenacres, whither Audrey’s car had borne them from the station.

Audrey laughed.

“My dear, what else could I do with my money?  I’ve got such a sickening lot of it, you see!  Besides”—­with a bantering glance at her husband—­“I think it was only the prospect of being of some use at my hospital which induced Miles to marry me!  He’s my private secretary, you know, and boss of the commissariat department.”