For the first time I took a more cheerful view of Boyce's
future.
On the evening before the Reception Betty was shown into the
library. It was late, getting on towards my bedtime, and I was
nodding in front of the fire.
"I'm just in and out, Majy dear," she said. "I had to come. I
didn't want to give you too many shocks." At my expression of
alarm, she laughed. "I've only run in to tell you that I've made
up my mind to come to the Town Hall tomorrow."
I looked at her, and I suppose my hands moved in a slight gesture.
"By that," she said, "I suppose you mean you can never tell what
I'm going to do next."
"You've guessed it, my dear," said I.
"Do you disapprove?"
"I couldn't be so presumptuous."
She bent over me and caught the lapels of my jacket.
"Oh, don't be so dreadfully dignified. I want you to understand.
Everybody is going to pay honour to-morrow to a man who has given
everything he could to his country. Don't you think it would be
petty of me if I stood out? What have the dead things that have
passed between us to do with my tribute as an Englishwoman?"
What indeed? I asked her whether she was attending in her private
capacity or as one of the representatives of the V.
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