“I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. ” Sheila snarled. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. ” “For my infertility. Oh, it was very bad.
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