"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?"

I bent over and kissed her.

"Yes, dear. I'll tell you. Listen, little girl--"

NEW BORZOI NOVELS

SPRING, 1922

Wanderers _Knut Hamsun_

Men of Affairs _Roland Pertwee_

The Fair Rewards _Thomas Beer_

I Walked in Arden _Jack Crawford_

Guest the One-Eyed _Gunnar Gunnarsson_

The Longest Journey _E. M. Forster_

Cytherea _Joseph Hergesheimer_

Explorers of the Dawn _Mazo de la Roche_

The White Kami _Edward Alden Jewell_