"
Thus the heroic Mary Connolly--type of a million of her kind in
America--of more than a million of her kind throughout the
world--hiding her fears deep in her heart that her men might go cheered
to battle.
The omelette was finished, and the Doctor and Jim Connolly had come in.
"The stars are out," the Doctor said. "After supper we'll walk a bit."
Jean was never to forget that walk with her father. It was her last
long walk with him before he went to France, her last intimate talk.
It was very cold, and he took her arm, the snow crunched under their
feet.
Faintly the chimes of the old College came up to them. "Nine o'clock,"
said the Doctor. "Think of all the years I've heard the chimes, I have
lived over half a century--and my father before me heard them--and they
rang in my grandfather's time. Perhaps they will ring in the ears of
my grandchildren, Jean."
They had stopped to listen, but now they went on. "Do you know what
they used to say to me when I was a little boy?
'The Lord watch
Between thee and--me--'"
"My mother and I used to repeat it together at nine o'clock, and when I
brought your mother here for our honeymoon--that first night we, too,
stood and listened to the chimes--and I told her what they said.
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