Even as I promised him, I promised myself to tell him nothing. I might have to lie in deeds to Brian. I wouldn't lie in words. Mrs. Beckett might give him her version of her son's romance--some day. Just at the moment she was relating, almost happily, the story of the picture: and it was for me, too.
Jim had had a beautiful frame made for Brian's cathedral sketch, and it had been hung in the best place--over his desk--in the special sanctum where the things he loved most were put. In starting for Europe his father and mother had planned to stop only a short time in a Paris hotel. They had meant to take a house, where Jim could join them whenever he got a few days' leave: and as a surprise for him they had brought over his favourite treasures from the "den." Among these was the unsigned picture painted by the brother of _The Girl_. They had even chosen the house, a small but charming old château to which Jim had taken a fancy. It was rather close to the war zone in these days, but that had not struck them as an obstacle. They were not afraid. They had wired, before sailing, to a Paris agent, telling him to engage the château if it was still to let furnished. On arriving the answer awaited them: the place was theirs.
"We thought it would be such a joy to Jim," Mrs. Beckett said. "He fell in love with that château before he came down with typhoid. I'll show you a snapshot he took of it. He used to say he'd give anything to live there. And crossing on the ship we talked every day of how we'd make a 'den' for him, full of his own things, and never breathe a word till he opened the door of the room. We're in honour bound to take the house now, whether or not we use it--without Jim. I don't know what we _shall_ do, I'm sure! All I know is, I feel as if it would kill me to turn round and go home with our broken hearts."
"We've got new obligations right here, Jenny. You mustn't forget that," said Mr. Beckett. "Remember we've just adopted a daughter--and a son, too. We must consult them about our movements."
"Oh, I hadn't forgotten!" the old lady cried. "They--they'll help us to decide, of course. But just now I can't make myself feel as if one thing was any better than another. If only we could think of something _Jim_ would have liked us to do! Something--patriotic--for France."