Mrs.
Simpkins looked so kind and comfortable, with the baby's head nestling against her capacious bosom.
Ronnie turned to look back at the brightly-lighted cottage.

The ruddy glow from the blind, fell on the snow.

He wondered whether there was a Upas tree in that humble home.

Surely not! A Upas tree and a Christmas-tree could hardly find place in the same home.

The tree of Light and Love, would displace the tree of subtle poison.
He turned wearily from the distant light and plodded on.
Then he remembered that, in her last letter, Helen had said: "Ronnie, we will have a Christmas-tree this Christmas." Why had Helen said that?
He had fully intended to ask her, but had not thought of it from that hour to this.
Possibly it was just a wish to yield to his whim in the matter.