Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. “It is just a look. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. For a moment or two Gerald stood in the total silence of amazement, his pistol up and pointing, aware that Hilary was likewise stunned, standing with halfdrawn sword. I bent over him. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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