Clayton's first impulse was to take the cable to Natalie, to brush
aside the absurd defenses she had erected, and behind which she cowered,
terrified but obstinate. To say to her, "He is living. He is going to live. But this war is not over yet. If
we want him to come through, we must stand together. We must deserve to
have him come back to us."

But by the time he reached the top of the stairs he knew he could not
do it. She would not understand. She would think he was using Graham
to further a reconciliation; and, after her first joy was over, he knew
that he would see again that cynical smile that always implied that he
was dramatizing himself.

Nothing could dim his strong inner joy, but something of its outer glow
faded. He would go to her, later. Not now. Nothing must spoil this great
thankfulness of his.

He gave Madeleine the cable, and went down again to the library.

After a time he began to go over the events of the past eighteen months.
His return from the continent, and that curious sense of unrest that had
followed it, the opening of his eyes to the futility of his life. His
failure to Natalie and her failure to him. Graham, made a man by war and
by the love of a good woman. Chris, ending his sordid life in a blaze of
glory, and forever forgiven his tawdry sins because of his one big hour.