"I had the most glorious ride, today, dad. All through the bridle paths
past Aldenham and back by King's Langley."
"There are no lanes like our Hertfordshire ones, little girl."
"I feel as if I were alive again, daddy, now the war is over."
We sat looking at the fire together--our thoughts, I knew, as far apart
as the poles. Our love was the common bond. Deep Harbor--other Christmas
days in England--and that last terrible Christmas day of all--out in
California--these and many other things I saw in the firelight.
"And what are you thinking of, Helen?"
Grey eyes looked up at me, smiling a little shyly.
"Do you know what I want for Christmas, dad?"
"Another bull-terrier, dear--or a new saddle?"
She shook her head vigorously.
"So wrong, daddy. Shall I tell you?"
"Please do."
"You promised once--when I should be old enough to understand--to tell
me the whole story of you and--mummy dear. I'll soon be eighteen. Won't
you tell me this story for my best Christmas present?"