He felt hurt and angry and showed it. "I should have thought you would
all have known me well enough to know that I should have written at
once--at once. Why, the whole world's altered now that I know that George
is no longer in it! Perhaps that sounds foolish and exaggerated, as I
never wrote to him. But I think _you'll_ know what I mean, Betty? It was
all right, as long as I knew he was somewhere, happy."
She said almost inaudibly:--"I think that he is happy somewhere. You
know--but no, you don't know--that George was a born soldier. Those
months after he joined up, and until he was killed, were, I do believe,
by far the happiest of his life. He always said they were."
As he made no answer she went on:--"I'll show you some of his letters
if you like, and father will show you the letters that were sent to
us--afterwards."
By now they had left the garden proper, and were walking down an avenue
which was known as the Long Walk. It was here that they two, with George
always as a welcome third, used to play "tip and run" and "hide and seek"
with the then little children.
"Tell me something about the others," he said abruptly. "I'm moving in a
world unrealised.
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