Mufti

rmous feet. But she fulfilled most of the requirements a man looks for in a war horse, which are not of necessity those he requires in a mount with the Grafton. She sco

acked out of the camp, waving a farewell hand

in all directions. Then gradually it had become normal again, until, after the Passchendaele fighting of 1917, it had excelled itself in gaiety. And now in May 1918 it was dead once more, with every house boarded up and every window shuttere

d grey mare walked sedately through the square. Va

d been hit direct. The man, or what was left of him, had been removed-only the horses remained, and a red pool coated with g

erything else these days-it's not fairness that counts; it's just luck-fatuous idiotic luck. It's not even a game;

he road were gun positions, and Vane kept a sharp look out as he trotted on. If there was one thing he loathed above all others it was the gunner humorist who, with malice aforethought, deliberately waited to fire his

-looking petrol electric engine. The whole eight would shortly run at close intervals to the nearest point to the front line. Then Vane, with a large pushing

in the ability of some professor of science, working in his laboratory miles away, to produce a weapon which strikes down alike the strong and the weakling with an agony which makes death a blessed relief. Gas-just a refinement of modern war introduced by the brains of ma

t on board the little tractor which w

each gaunt and stunted tree seemed to clothe itself again with rustling leaves. The night was silent; only the rattle of the little train, as it rumbled over bridges which spanned some sluggish brook or with a warning hoot crossed a road-broke the stillness. Great shell-holes filled with rotting debris flashed by, the mouldering ruins of an old chateau fro

lay trees in all directions, while, through the few that remained standing, a cold bright moon threw fantastic shadows

to push it seemed to rise out of the ground. Silently they disappeared with it, like ghouls at some mysterious ceremony. With muffled couplings it made n

have swept the ground. But the night was silent, the flares still went peacefully up, and the wind had not changed. It blew gently and s

ist; occasionally a low curse could be hear

?" The gas expert peered at Vane in th

e gas attack had begun. To an airman returning from a bombing raid, who circled for a moment above, it looked like a sheet being slowly spread over the country below; a beautiful-an eerie-picture. To those on the ground who watc

ehind, men writhed and muttered hoarsely, struggling for breath and struggling in vain. The attack had been successful-and all was as it sho

science had been occupying the Boche out

xpert. "One hour in most cases, and when it gets weaker,

and the trains having delivered th

came up to Vane as he stood on the Lille road. "I think we've g

"But what a filthy

arted it," retu

hed Vane. "That's proba

you, Vane. War is such a filthy business, however you look at it, that

ted the bally motor with the gear in, and now we're running after it trying

oad together to where

r of his destiny, you me

rned Vane, "or the Boche might hear;

ere the railway track crossed the road and he halted to

you, Van

down the road. Vane felt the stinging pain in his right sho

aying," he

ad taken a machine-gun b

PTE

ion of sharp boulders. There is real sand-lots of it; the sort that gets hot and comforting in the sun, and invites people who have eaten too much luncheon to sleep. And during the war, though the bands and other delights have departed, the sand has remained a source of pleasure to hundreds of p

g on the beach staring out to sea. On the horizon a black smudge of smoke stood up against the vivid blu

eyes and that wonderful complexion which seems to be the exclusive property of the British. Madame remarked on it to Monsieur, glancing at the white faces of her own daughters three, and Monsieur g

Mais que voulez-vous? c'est la guerre." She watched her offspring preparing to paddle, and once again she s

all she wanted was rest-utter, complete rest, where such things as bandages and iodine were unknown. And even as the longing came to her she knew that a week of it would be all that she could stand. She could

d in her a certain idealistic dreaminess, an intense love of the beautiful in life. Sordid things filled her with a kind of horror, and when the war came she tried to banish it from her mind like a dreadful nightmare. But there were storie

that she would last a month-that she would never stand the sight of blood and wounds. Her answer

ad been groping towards something she did not possess. She had read carefully and with discrimination, and the reading had onl

een far from disliking it. At times he had seemed to be serious, and as a matter of fact the subtle difference between her and the stock pattern crowd had interested him more than he admitted even to himself. Then one day she discovered that a certain flat and its occupant wer

e of manner, finally became annoyed, and the episode ceased. They sti

er and she looked up. For a moment the coincidence failed to strike

said, "I was jus

ghtly bound in a sling

peace of it all." He waved his left hand round the deserted beach. "Why, it's like old times-before the world w

she asked, when he had m

; got here

ty there to-night.

ulder. And the man beside me took the next bullet through his heart."

of ideas his sudden appearance had interrupted

t, since we met?" sh

ur wasted centuries. Nothing

s well?" She faced him smilingly. "There was so much

rove the remedy?" Vane laughed cynically. "Except that th

ted something to wake us up; it'

go to sleep again. Don't you f

s with doing-not drifting. . . . It's we who have got

. Six months after peace we shall be scrambling and fig

d with her finger. "The worry of scrambling after a job

shall go away, if I'm alive to do it, to the South Sea Islands and live on fruit. The only proviso

im suddenly. "You've got it rat

?" he ask

" she answered. "

returned grimly. "Is

someone has got

and lay struggling under it. But he couldn't do it himself. It's got beyond us, Margaret

terly wrong. The game is still in our hands, and w

as wrong, the sentence would have been concluded similarly. Unfortuna

ds together. "Don't you see that you've got to look

've got to be. They're up against it-and the Juggernaut of Fate knows he's got 'em. And they know he's got 'em. They just eat and drink and are merry for to-morrow they. . . . Ah!

hrough with it, haven't

there as brave little Belgium or suffering little Serbia. I tell you we're all dazed, Margaret-just living in a dream. Some of us take

it all, there's the big ideal surely. . . . If I didn't th

ped the sand savagely. "Cut the cackle, my dear girl; cut the cackle. This little performance was started by a few of the puppets who thought they had a winning hand, and the other puppets called a show down. And then the game passed out of their hands. They write books ab

have thought it would have taken you lik

de love at the Grafton Galleries." She flushed a little, but did not lower her eyes. "Such a serio

tting beside him was more than attractive. He wondered why he had let her slip so easily out of his life. And the train of th

d the new Heaven and the

the new Earth," she repeated gravely rising to

nsieur still snoring, and Madame nodding peacefully over her knitting, and crossed the deserted prom

all marble-topped table, "that I haven't seen or spoken to a wom

y about. An occasional motor car, containing officers-on duty, of course-slowed down at the corner opposite and disgorged its load. A closer inspection of one of them might have revealed a few suspicious looking gashes in the uphol

o call at various dilapidated farms and holes in the ground, in the area where shrapnel and crumps are not unknown. . . . But just for a few brief hours the occupants of the car were going to s

a Nissen hut near Poperinghe to study the question of salvaged materials at the base, had waved a friendly hand at all the ladies-beautiful and otherwise-whom they met. But the

r it and every now and then the dull drone of some bursting crump, or the vicious crack of high explosive. B

es, but on what foundations? And would they be allowed to anyway? Reconstruction is work for the politician-not for the soldier. . . . Most certainly not. . . . The soldier's ignorance on every subject in the world except fi

leaned across the table towards him. "You'll

ngled, Margaret, I know it-just for the time. . . . Howeve

't know that there's much to tell. I've never be

d out of the window to two soldie

s doing something. After all, Derek, you get accustomed to deat

ll. But you-you were so different." He thoughtfully drained his tea

et suddenly. "Five years ago you and I were sitting in

now in London except

moment, and we should have enjoyed

only standar

milk and not talk for effect. . . . What's going to happen,

of others-the boys up yonder, their people at home. But what about the business train to Brighton,

nly a smal

He laughed a little bitterly. "And they're

house in our own little tiny circle, with simplicity and reality as the keystones. . . . Y

ht." He paused and looked at her quietly. "Margaret. I've never asked you before-but you're d

"I'll tell you some day, Derek, perhaps. Not ju

For a few moments she looked at him as if undecide

, I want to deal with this jaundice of yours.

PTE

design so ably portrayed in the War Office Sealed Pattern X.B.451.-"Method of turning down sheets on Beds Hospital." On "Beds Barrack" the method is slightly different and is just as ably shown

egationalist; and for the sixth time the worthy recipient of this news had retired to consult War Office Sealed List of Religions A.F.31 to find out if he was entitled to be anything of the sort. In each case the answer had been in the

ost of his right leg shot away, and they talked spasmodical

al thermometer. "Firing at 'em over open sights: shrapnel set at 0. Seemed to cut lanes th

eter under his tongue,

in a bally O.P. watchin' ot

rs?" he queried, as

Mouldy luck, and one splinter smashed the last bottle of whisky." The

ns; and on the opposite side of the tent another chaplain, grey haired and clean shav

. They are not the only two who before the war would have relegated the other to the

passed over lightly before. It is not doctrine they want; faith and belief in beautiful formulas have become less and less satisfying. They are beginning to think for themselves, which is anathema to the Church. Of old she prevented such a calamity by a policy of terrorising her followers; of later years she has adopted the

red Roman Catholic as he pa

riest held out a lighted

rse." He smiled and lay back on his pill

much as men discuss politics, and incidentally with far less heat. . . . It was a question of interest, and the fact that the Gunne

n, and Vane looked up with a smile. She was shaking an admonitory finger at Father O'Rourk

re on my side, aren't you? It's better

nly she smiled, and came between their beds. "Unless you bo

himself under the bed-clothes, and M

want to sit down and howl. . . ." And Vane, looking up i

his head, and his eyes, fixed and staring, would slowly turn from bed to bed. He looked as a man looks who is walking in his sleep, and Vane knew he was very near the Great Divide. He had been hit in the chest by a piece of shell, and a bit of his coat impregnated with mustard gas had been driven into his lungs. . . . Every

medicine, Doctor. He doesn'

m whisper seems to travel as far as the voice of the Sergeant-Major on pa

e that whereas, up in front, he had seen death and mutilation in every possible and impossible form-that though he had seen men hit by a shell direct, and one man crushed by a Tank-yet he had never been impressed with the same sense of the utter futility of war as now, in face of this boy dying in the bed opp

ible temptation to speak to her. He felt that he wanted her near him, if only for a moment; he wanted to lean on her-he wanted to be taken in her arms like a little child. Angr

ce calling. "Sister!" Margaret came towards him do

onade. "I thought you were asleep, Derek,"

k. "I'm frightened, Margaret," he said so low that she scarce could hear hi

e up and took hers, and she felt the touch of his lips on it. For a moment she let it re

oused by a sudden noise. Margaret was reading at her table; the man at the other end still groaned feebly

; and at the same moment the Gunner woke up. Then they all heard it together-that

er, "Boche, for a tann

s destroyed. Both men heard it-the well-known whistling whooce of the bomb-the vicious crack as it burst; both m

went out. The last thing Vane saw was Margaret as she made her way, calmly and without faltering, to the boy's bed. He had a picture, printed indelibly on his brain, of a gir

ding flash, and involuntarily he ducked his head. Then, running and stumbling, he reached her. He felt her standi

houted, "lie dow

ried. "Help me w

d in her ear, "Lie down, I tell you, lie down . . . quite flat." Obediently she lay down, and he stretched himself beside her on the

ts, Derek.

and a wave of fury against the airmen above took hold of him. He was no novice to bombing; there had been weeks on end whe

led with a raging passion at the danger to the g

ll be over soon." And so almost unconscious of what they said or di

n was a liar. He was also a fool. . . . To be bombed is poisonous, rather more poisonous than to be s

-since every occupant of Number 13 was well aware of this fact, approximately five seconds elapsed after the light wen

brain. He had just time to throw himself on to the girl beside him so that he partially covered her, when the last bomb came. He heard the top of the marquee rip: there was a deafening roar in his ears: a scorching flame enveloped him. He lay stiff and rigid, and the thought flashed through him that t

him, and kissed her on the lips. For a while she clung to him, and then he felt her relax in his arms. She had fainted, and as he reali

de of the tent. Then he cautiously felt his way round to investigate the damage. A great crater midway between Number 13 and the next tent showed where the first close one had fallen, but he had no wish to explore that any further. He stumbled round the edge and went on. Then in the faint light given by the moon, he saw what had happened when the last bomb had burst.

ugh the night sprawled uncouthly on to the floor. God knows! a merciful

the ground, and someone crawled out into the open. Then he felt a touch on his arm, and, turning, he saw Margaret. Dry-eyed, she watched wi

r's daring exploit; they were entitled to their well-earned rest. And so for a space did Vane and Margaret

" she whispered-

PTE

ital had been cleared away, and there were rows laid side by side in the mortuary. Over everyone there breathed a s

t turn away with the same careless indifference as he had in the past. Though she had always attracted him, he had never seriously contemplated the final step; he

e had been in the eleven at Eton, and was a scratch golfer. He had a fine seat on a horse and rode straight; he could play a passable game of polo, and was a good shot. Possessing as he did sufficient money to prevent the necessity of working, he had not taken the something he was supposed to be doing in the City very seriously. He had put in a periodical appearance at a desk and drawn pictures on the blotting paper; for the remainder of the time he had amused himself. He belonged, in fact, to the Breed; the Breed that has always existed in England, and will always exist till the world's end

e subject; women with their vast experience have looked upon the Breed with great clarity of vision and have written as their eyes have seen; even bo

inst the playground wall. It may well be that it would be a far, far better thing for mob adoration to be laid at the feet of the composer of the

couraged more. But let us be very certain before we gaily pull the system to pieces that the one we erect in its place will stand the strain, and produce the one great result beside which everything else is as nothing. For if, at the price of team work and playing for the side,

rtially. There are many now who, having sacrificed every prospect, find their outlook haunted by the spectre of want; there are many more, formerly engaged in skilled trades such as engineering or mining, who find that they have four years of leeway to

him. In this laudable pastime he had succeeded to the extent of two for certain and one doubtful. The only man whom he had really wanted to slaughter-a certain brother subaltern who offended him daily-he had been forced to spare owing to foolish re

ampionship meeting there long ago. Slowly he strolled towards them, going down nearer the sea where the sand was finer. And all the time he argued it out with himself. Four ye

eat unrest of the world is not felt by the men in the trenches. It seethes and boils outside, and only when a man comes back to so-called peace does he reach the whirlpool, which lies at the end o

discussed the mistakes of the Higher Command in the arm chairs of the Club; of universal chatter concerning rations and meat coupons. Then he had left, and in a few short hours had been back once more in the mud holes. A good leave? Oh! undoubtedly, just as it should have been, where the one thing necessary was contrast. But even then it had irritated him at times to re

to Vane that seemed like a permanency. It is one thing to drug oneself in the waters of Lethe for a fortnight of one's own free will: it is altogether different to be drugged by others for good. And dimly he fe

ishness, grinning when the sky is black, that is the new philosophy. One hesitates to call it new. It existed once, we are gi

a moment Vane stopped and stared in front of him; then he laughed al

d her pursuit of throwing stones at a bottle a few yards away, in ignorance of the fact that she had an audience. It is a lazy occupation at the best of times and her rendering of it was no

m the crowd and the strife of existence: to be with her always, watching her grow from the wife to the mother, se

h a sudden smile he stooped down and picked up a stone-several, in fact, and fired a volley. There was a tinkling noise, and the bottle fell. Then he waited for her to look round. For just a little while there was silence, and then she turned towards him with a smile. . . . And in that moment it seemed to him that he had found the answer he sought. Surely it was just a dream, and in a moment he would wake up and see the dreadful face of the mess waiter appearing down the dug-out steps. It is

led himself together and regarded her gravely. T

g me?" he remarked,

. I want to make cert

was faintly tremulous. "And w

and she gave it a gentle nip. "Go on, harder . . . Ah! that's

struggling to withdraw her hand from b

rue. The peace of it, and the glory, and you. . . . I'll be waking up

did he pause. . . . And then it was the look in her eyes, as much as her two hands pressed ag

once before we go. . . . P

esitated. "Even a

ncipally because

"I knew there was a catch somewhere," he murmured plainti

smiled. Then she patted

I want to talk to yo

lf sullenly, as he took a seat somew

an a mere European war to make some l

ash it, Margaret, there was a distinct fla

ek; don't, please. As long as I live I shall never forget it

ng in the bed opposite mine that made me jumpy . . . frightened . . . God knows what! The smash up of the raid itself left me almost cold by comp

silence, and then Vane

g to-morrow

ded. "I didn't thin

sorry I

mply. "You know that. . . . But I

l!" repeated

f a lot of things. You'd int

t, I suppose." Then he turned to her impulsively. "Margaret, my dear, what does i

," she said slo

minary suggestion

-a low, rip

in the tea shop yesterday about not

hild or a callow boy. Do you suppose at my age I don't know my own mind? Why

ences." With a slight laugh she leaned over and rested

did know what she meant, but at that moment i

her elbows on her knee, and her chin cupped in the palms of her hand,

How much of last night was just-what shall I say-nervous

n the words died away on his lips as he saw th

rek, this war has given a different value to things. . . . Whether one likes it or not, it's made one more serious. It hasn't destroyed our capaci

y. "I'm not certain, dear, that

you last night, seems to mean very much more to me than it did once upon a time. That's why I want to make sure. . . ." She hesitated, and then, seeming to make up her mind, she turned and

"The one is big-the other is petty. And when we li

you so frightfully to understand what I am going to say. You have asked me to marry you-to take the biggest step which any woman can take. I tell you qu

quickly. "Tell me

out that girl y

lightly. "Good

avers, if you want to know. And then I asked a few questions, and put two and two together.

rstand now?" He leane

the true value of things. I've passed out of the promiscuous kissing stage, as I told you. . . . And I think I realise rather more than I did what men are. . . . One doesn't make

table. Into his mind there had flashed Lear's question: "And goes thy heart with this?"

exactly you have arriv

work is just to be with you. And it may be that it isn't that you won't want me. Ah! yes, dear," as he made a quick, impatient movement. "There is always the possibility. I want you to go and find out, Derek, a

e is back to Flanders again, as it probably will be.

hy then, dear, Fate will hav

t, I don't want to worry you; I don't want to force myself

self, and I've got to find myself; and when we've both done that we shall know how w

nd this afternoon had happened before the war

igness of it, the wonder of it. Underneath all the horror, underlying all the vileness-the splendour of it all. The glory of human endurance. . . . People wondered that I could stand it-I with

adise? Aren't we here alone just hidden from the world, while the very gulls themselves are screaming: 'Kiss her, kiss her?' And then the fairy princess, instead of being t

understand?" She knelt beside him on

re not building fairy castles on what's going to happen after the war

she cried fiercely. "Derek, we can't let all this hi

ng face so close to his own. "Do you suppose that we

things-I feel it. You mustn't drift like you did before the war. You've got to fight, and others like

on her face and leant forward quickly. "My dear, don't misunderstand me. I don't want to be flippant and cynical. But I'm just a plain, ordinary man-and I'm rather tired. W

." She looked thoughtfully out to sea and then, as he kept silent, she went on slowly, "I guess we all sat still before this war; drifted along the line of least res

nd screamed above them. Then slowly she bent forward and kissed him on the mouth. . . . "Go and find yourse

*

then for a while he sat, idly throwing stones at the overturned bottle. Just once he laughed, a short, hard laugh with no humour i

d to England in th

PTE

octors from Millbank who formed the Board, took him in its clutches once more and deposited him at a convalescent home. Not one of the dreary, routine-lik

senior of the two doctors. "A charming

Heavens! I know it well. Danced t

e?" The doctor

g to the Earl of Forre

er places as well, so

e his money in hardwa

w Patterdale's

t even seemed to regard such flippancy with a certain amount of su

ating in the purple downs: and Vane, as the car waited for the gates to be opened, felt that indefinable thrill of pride that comes to every man when he looks on some glorious stretch of his own country. He noticed that the lodge-keeper had changed since he was there last, and not, it

curiously at the occupants, and then slouched back into the lodge. . . . Of course hat-touching is a relic of feudalism, and,

ur shortage. The flower beds were a riot of colour; the grass was short and beautifully kept. And as the ambulance

asked a New Zealander opposite him sudd

owing down before he finally spoke. "He's a substitute for the old order of things. And

hat moment, and they s

ing on the steps

rt. And, after all, vulgarity is only comparative. In the sanctity of the little shop in Birmingham where Sir John had first laid the foundations of his

heart she felt, that she would have been far more happy in the kitchen. Except that in the kitchen her lost aspirates would probably have been handed back

party." One could imagine her in a cotton dress, with her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, displaying a pair of plump forearms and wielding a rolling pin in front of a

Lady Patterdale they did not stop at advertising. They carried out their dreadful threats and clothed her. The result was incredible. She resembled nothing so much as a bursting melon. Onlookers sh

er side by one of the nursing staff, advanced to meet him. Her jolly ol

u," she cried. "Welc

tung her, and Vane decided that he did not like her.

rdale," he said, takin

's going to

as she turned to welcome the New Zealander. "And after

before dinner. It was served in the old banqueting hall, which, when Vane remembered it, had be

e had been in the room he and three or four kindred spirits had emptied a fruit sal

answer, when suddenly the voice continu

ame butler who had been at

ere? Jove! but I'm glad to see you. I thought Si

Mrs. Hickson. She was the housekeeper, if you remember. And s

s non-committal. "An

t the

t poured out a glass of beer. "He's in the village

t that. I must

re myself for a bit of a chat about the old days." With a sigh

," remarked the officer sitting next

reed," said Vane short

ng in the world that

d the other. "Has

s heart when he heard that Lord Forres was going to sell the place." Vane continued his

ungster speaking, and the remark was plainly audible to the old butler two pl

" he remarked quietly. "

better looking." Vane turned to h

he other thoughtfully. "And one's inclined

sort one is so hopelessly biassed by one's

le episode like that in an unbiassed way? Isn't it merely in miniature what is going on a

at youth as being represe

ty a magnificent platoon commander-there are thousands like him who have come into being with this

nd of the room. There was something noble about the simplicity of the old man, confronted by the crashing of the system in which he and his father, and his father's father had been born. A puzzled look seemed ever in h

oes anything matter save one's own comfort? Personal

money to obtain his knighthood and blossom into a county magnate. At one time he had even thought of standing for Parliament as an old and cr

time arrayed as the sporting squire; but the role was one which he persistently tried to fill, with the help of a yellow hunting waistcoat and check stockings. And when it is said that he invariably bullied the servants, if possible in front of a third perso

d come through into their little living-room behind for his supper. First he would kiss her, and then taking off his best coat, he would put on the old frayed one that always hung in readiness behind the door. And after supper, they would draw

is champagne her mind went back with a bitter stab of memory to those early days in Birmingham. What had they got in exchange for their love and dreams over the kitchen fire-what Dead Sea Fruit had they pluc

and there had been a good day's takings. The excitement over choosing her best hat-the one with the bunches of fruit in it. . . . As long as she lived

s that she should go to the be

"and I want you to keep your end up with the best

loyally. Was he not still her man; and if he was happy, what e

rance of that night in her secret drawer-the drawer that contained amongst other

e a percentage had accepted, and it was after dinner, just before the guests were going, that the owner of a n

see that impossible little bound

a blow between the eyes, and that night, in bed, a wom

. . . . Lady Sarah Wellerby had told her so herself. . . . Had asked them over in return. . . . And had sugg

." No, she didn't tell him that: nor mention the misery she had suffered during dinner. She didn't say how terrified she was of the servants-all except old Robert, who looked at her sometimes with his kindly, tired eyes as if he understood. She didn't even take the opportuni

impromptu snap-shots of himself chatting with wounded officers in the grounds. For these posed photographs Lady Patterdale arrayed herself in a light grey

Captain Vane," she said as she passe

I shall be only too delighted. Is

sband always likes me to wear this when we're

all directions. Confronting them was a large camera, and some servants were arranging chairs under the di

appeared in the nature of a make weight, in a very short time, to everyone's profound relief, the group had been taken. . . . Vane, who had been sitting on the ground, with his legs tucked under him to keep them in focus, silently suffering an acute attack of cramp, rose and stretch

low, silvery voice;

es-and then, before he could answer, or even make up his mind if it had been he who w

amused smile on his lips turned towards the cool, shady drive. Margaret's remark in the sand dunes at Etaples

PTE

he grass and the darker green of the shrubs around. Through the trees could be seen glimpses of the distant hills, and Vane, as he stumbled unexpectedly into this sudden bit of fairyland, cau

his most cherished sentiments that nothing aided convalescence so much as a little bright, breezy

was a good deal of what, for want of a better word, might be termed horse sense. But he was so completely self-opinionated and sure of himself that he generally drove his audience to thoughts of poisons that left no trace or even fire-arms. Especially when he was holding forth on strategy. On that su

aused for a moment to relight his pipe. Then he turned impressively to Sir John. "There was no Chief of Staff. The Chief of Staff had gone: only a few bubbles welling out of the mud remained to show his fate. And then, before my very eyes, the C.-in-C. himself commenced to sink. To my fevered brain it seemed to be over in a minute. His last words as he went down

aid the still small voice of a ma

days in my dug-out with their feet in hot water and mustard. . . . A most homely spectacle-es

broken at last by the opening and shutting of t

paused at the entrance

was in fu

n talking about land nationalisation. The two don't go together, sir. If you educate a man he's not going to go

ly a new arrival. Welcome

lence. At the conclusion of the little man's first remark Vane had a fleeting vision of the cavalry-man slinking hurriedly round two bushes and then, having run li

t itself, and Vane seized the occasion of

ohn. Robert tells me that the old man who w

hn complacently performed three steps of his celebrated strut. "Did you know the Hearl?" Though fairly sound

that he did

English nobility. I am proud, sir, to have had such a predecesso

vie-the Earl's eldest son-at lunch one day, concerning the tra

d down, and calling me His Grace. He's either unwell, or his trousers are coming off.'" Lord Blervie had helped himself to some more whisky and sighed. "I've had an awful time," he continued after a while. "The governor sat in one room, and

they slipped out of his fingers on to the grass. He felt supremely and blissfully lazy. The soft thud of tennis balls, and the players' voices calling the score, came faintly through the sti

tically, rather as a would-be purchaser looks at a horse. "And have they all run away a

was wondering what her age was. Somewhere about twe

ief much thank

ft host in the stockings

arming of him and his

ground. . . . Why the Queen visited Rumfold the other day and congratulated Lady Patterdale on her mag

her in amazement. "And did you dre

You see, I'm a very busy person, and my work

" murmured Vane, "to inq

d solemnly at him. "I amuse

very hard?" asked Vane

m bush to bush is to remember to which class the temporary occupant belongs. I mean it's a dreadful thing to assure a man of your own undy

e. "Blue for those who passionately adore you-red for those wh

. . . . How true it is that the best brains in the Army adorn the lower positions. By the way-I must just make a note of your name." Sh

swered, "Chri

with a snap. "Now I'm ready to begin. Are you

ing the latter most thoro

pening that is a scream with some people falls as flat as ditch-water with others." She loo

d forward. "May I a

t up slightly. "

the unknown," remarked

n. But if you prefer it

oo

ow that until the fourth or fifth performance. You see, if one gets on too quickly i

ed Vane. "But you haven

to the rules-at least not my rules. . . . Besides I was

mind," returned Vane. "However, at this stage we won't press it. . . . I should hate to embarrass you." He looked at

etter resume my official duties. W

on to the old Elizabethan dormer window from which it is reported that the celebrated Sir Walter Raleigh hung his cloak to dry, after the lady had trodden on it. On the staircase can be seen the identical spot where the dog basket belonging to the aged pug dog of the eighteenth Countess of Forres was nightly placed, to the intense discomfiture of those ill-behaved and rowdy guests who turned the hours of sleep into a time for revolting debauches with soda water syphons a

rrupted weakly. "The answer is adju

he grand piano

nuts," she said firml

t gaspers,

ng out his case. "I am quite r

Somehow I don't think I will proceed along the regular lin

an whose?"

enigmatic. "There is a cavalryman here and one o

ctly," he remarked quietly.

. I can't help whether I'm being a poisonous snob or not; it's what I feel. Take Sir John. Why, t

it from an unbiassed point of view it seems almost as good a cla

alist?" she dem

ere talking about outsiders. Lord! my dear girl, don't think I don't know what you mean. I had a peerless one in my company-one of the first and purest water-judged by our standards. He was addicted to cleaning his nails, amongst other things, with a prong of his fork at meals. . . . But one morning down in the Hulluch sector-it was stand to. Dawn was just

-but her eyes did no

ck in the Land over the Water. "There are thousands like him," he went on thoughtfully, "and over there, you see, nothing much matters. A man, whether he's

w could it be otherwise? It's when you get a man trying to kick the

"Personally I'm trying to fi

it befor

nd flour; hunting, cr

ink that would st

Vane. "In the fulness of t

propose to fin

gi

llow me-carry on. . . . I believe everyone is carrying on. . . . It's the phase, isn't it? And in the process, as far as it pro

out speaking. "You're somewhat different fro

may find favour in your sight. It's something, at any

estly, you despi

life through my spectacles; you look at it through your own. For all I know you may be right, and I may be wrong. In fact," he continued aft

d towards the lawn. Tennis was still in full swing

ddenly. "Are they all asking the why and the wheref

n. . . . It's made everyone a bit more thoughtful; it's made everyone ask the why and the wherefore, insistently or

"as an infantry soldier to state publicly whether you have ever seen a more masterly bit of scouting than mine when the old man buttonholed you. Jove! you should have seen it. Pur

write letters. It was a slow and laborious process, and, as a rule, he wrote as few as possible. But there w

hrough the hall. He got up and hurried after her. "Would you mind addressing this for me?" He held out

him, and picked up a pen. "Well," sh

hief came into her eyes as they met his. He was staring at her with a thoughtful exp

?" she remarked flippantly. "Condemning me a second tim

on't think it matters exactly what I was thinking," he continued, "except that it co

econd of my two classes

ht you were in t

embrace?" ask

once more to the table. "Suppo

d quite uncalled for. After four years in the Army, one should be

earth you mean?" sa

dividual. . . . Possibly even proper to the point of dulness." He was staring idly out of the window. "In the States, you know, they carry it even further. . . . I believe there one can hire a

ntinued dreamily. "There was one I heard of who was the wife of the Diss

urious voice, "that you are the

on so nicely. I was just going to ask you to have lunch with

starving, I wouldn't lunch with you in any capac

ing to know where we stan

ld have talked-would have allowed. . . ." The words died away in her throat, and her shoulders shook. S

stood there looking at her with a fa

later on, when my abominable remarks are not quite so fresh in your mind, you won't regard them as quite such an insult as you do now. Dreadful outsider though I am-unpardonably caddish thou

and he saw that they were dangerously

me; the game that both

aking love. . . . Is i

sting publication is te

ominously, "that to your caddishn

. ." He pointed to the envelope still unaddressed, lying between th

once again. "I notice your tone ch

he address is Mrs. Vern

he remark

girl. She handed him the envelope, and then, as she saw the bl

the large sum of one hundred and fifty pounds a year. Her husband died in my arms while we were consolidating

. Joan Devereux was standing motionless, staring out of the window. Vane dro

PTE

to write his name in a book, and he was then issued a half-fare voucher. No o

to Mrs. Vernon. She would be glad to see him, she had written in reply, and she was grateful to him for taking the trouble to come

n, interrupted momentarily by his entrance. In fact they had seemed to regard his intrusion rather in the light of a personal affront. Their general appearance was not preposse

re the war, when a man standing in front of him had failed to remove his hat during the playing of "The King." It was an opera hat, and Vane removed it for him and shut it up. The owner turned round just in time to see it hit the curtain, whence it fell with a thud into the orchestra. . . . Quite inexcusable, but the fight that followed was all

him that the war had not cured this failing; if anything it had made it stronger. And the sight of these two fat, oily specimens complacently

ce that he longed to hit it with a stick. But Vane was beginning to doubt whether he had been well brought up; he was quite certain

they seemed so to him. For all he knew, or cared, they might each of them be

at it was all going to France, which caused a shortage for those at home. Then the military situation. . . . Impossible, grotesque. . . . Somebody ought to be hanged for having allowed such a thing to hap

hem both into that bit of the outpost line, where a month before he had crawled round on his belly at dawn to see his company. Grey-faced and grey-coated with the m

and fatter of the two, having concluded an exhaustive harangue on the unprecedented wealth at present being enjoyed by

remain in the country," remarked Vane cas

cily that they would lik

re casually. "Doubtless the Egyptian Expeditionary F

rom their remarks he gathered that they considered he had insulted them; but it was only when he arrived at the gat

if I thought there were many like you in the country I'd take to drink. As it is,

from France standing close by burst in

b next to an old pal in the smoking-room, "I've just been a thorough paced boun

clock, and he sat up with an effort. "Splendid, dear old top," he remarked. "And since i

irst go round to his rooms in Half Moon Street. He had kept them on during the war, only opening them up during his periods of leave. The keys were in the safe possessi

ked. New-fangled Army ranks meant nothing to her: Mr. Vane he

nswer that question. There was a sudden scurry of feet, and

see your master again? One lick, you little rascal, as it's a spec

with a smile to Mrs. Green.

first week after you went-the same as the other times-he'd hardly touch a thing.

his was a big but-she was only a stop-gap. Now-and with another scurry of feet, he was once again jumping round the only one who really mattered. A

umber of people in England have lately been considering whe

Binks? I'd like to see anyone try." . . . Vane had a momentary vision of his sta

d I. . . ." And with a short laugh he

antel-piece, while in the corner a bag of golf clubs and two or three pairs of boxing gloves gave an indication of their owner's tastes. The room was spotlessly clean, and with the sun shining cheerfully in at the window it seemed impossible to bel

ld accustomed cracks in the floor. Suddenly with a wild scurry, he fled after his principal joy-the one that never tired. He had seen Vane throw it into the corner, and now he tro

ntended for the use of the very young in their baths-to enable them to squirt a jet of water into the nurse's eye; but

little steep if it was so. But Vane, as far as Binks could see, was looking at one of the photographs on the mantelpiece with a slight smile on his face. One or two mournful whistles produced no apparent result.

his ears pricked up, and his head turning slightly as he followed the movement of his master's foot, waited. Shortly, he knew that this hereditary enemy of his would fly to one side of the room or the other. The great question was-whi

e gave it an extra furious bite, just to show that he would tolerate no uppishness on account of this preliminary defeat. . . . Vane laughed. "You funny old man," he said. He stopped and picked up the toy, replacing it on the mantelpiece. "That ends the game for to-day, Binks, for I've

e of Margaret-taken years ago. . . . And as he looked at it, a pair of grey eyes,

going to Balham. And I

and the gate. In some of the plots there were indications that the owner was fond of gardening; here a few sweet peas curled lovingly up the sticks put in for them-there some tulips showed signs of nightly atte

lance of life; almost as if it was stirring from a long sleep, and muttering to itself that love and the glories o

s the station. The 8.30 was their train; though in some very rare cases the 9.3 was early enough. . . . But as a rule the 9.3 crowd did not live in Culman Terrace. Just a few only, who had come there young and eager, and had died there. True, they caught the 9.3, but they were dead. And the pretty laughing

orld outside; they went to a bargain sale, perhaps, and saw the King drive past-or they went to the movies and for a space lived in the Land of Make Believe. . . . But the coils of Culman Terrace had them fast, and the excitement was only momentary-the relapse the more complete.

red them getting up from their chairs, and peering at him curiously, wondering where he was going-wha

the greatest strain Binks was ever called on to face, but after a moment of indecision he obeyed as usual. Cats were his passion; but ever since he had carried the Colonel's wife's prize Persian on to parade and deposited it at Vane's feet he was discreet in the matter. The infu

te of No. 14 and rang the bell. There was an unpleasant sinking feeling in th

he door opened. A pale, grave-eyed woman in black confronted him, and after a mom

come, Captain Vane," she said in a singu

he room of a woman who loved beautiful things, and who had with perfect taste banished every single object which might jar on the fastidious

oked at him with a little lift of her eyebrows that he realised she might

, whatever wretchedness worries one-it's something to have a real sanctuary to come to. I want the children to feel that-so much. I want them to love the beautiful things in life," she went on passionately, "even though they li

. And so, gently and quietly, with his eyes fixed on the empty fireplace, he told her the story. There are thousands of similar stories which could be told in the world to-day, but the pathos of each one is not d

nwittingly, perhaps, he fell back on the popular conception of war. And the woman, who hung on every word, silent and tearless, thrilled with the pride of it. Her man, running at the head of others-charging-dying at

ll had torn Vernon to bits long after the tumult and the shouting had ceased. After all, he was dead . . . it was the living who

s, repeated to her the words which a man will say when the race is run and the tape is reached. God knows they are commonplace en

nd bit. . . . With the tears pouring down her cheeks she listened; and though

to herself, repeating Vane's last sentence. "Ah! but you

dim he saw the beautifully kept little garden-a mass of colour; he saw the name plate, "Sea View," on the gate, glinting bravely in the sun. Something of the ho

y his death he had justified himself; in his life he would have failed. . . . For he had been branded with the brand of Culman Terrace, and there is no need to say more. He was relieved to see that Mrs. Vernon was quite composed

e began; "your husband often spoke abou

, Captain Vane,"

a good start these days. Of course he'd be judged entirely on his merits . . . but he'd start with a real good chance of making the best of his talents." He looked quickly at her, and found she was watching him gravely. "It's part of the privilege of the brotherhood of the trench

a quick look at her. Had he put it well? Had he k

but the city life would kill him-even as it has killed thousands of others. . . . I wonder if you can realise the hideous tragedy of the poor clerk. He can't strike for higher wages, like the British working man. He just goes on and on and suffers in silence. . . . In Jack's case it would be the same. . . . What-four hundred a year?" She laughed a little scornfully. "It's not much to bring up a family on, Captain Vane. . . . Four hundred a year, and Acacia Avenue-two streets up. . . . Acacia Avenue doesn't call on Culma

's not quite respectable. . . . Only aristocratic ne'er-do-wells and quite impossibly common men emigrate. It's a confession of failure. . . . And so we've continued to swell the ranks of the most pitiful class in the country-the gentleman and his family with the small fixed income. The working man regards him with suspicion because he wears a black coat-or, with contempt because he doesn't strike; the Government completely ignores him because they know he's t

its aftermath had brought their paths together for a space, and now they were diverging again. But that short space had been enough to make him feel ashamed and proud. Ashamed of himself for his cynicism and irritability; proud of the woman who, with her faith clear and steadfast, could face the

ressing sympathy without words. He needn't have worried, had he known . . . and Binks, who was looking out of the window with interest, could not tell him. Anyway, it was not anything to make a song or dance about-putting a cold wet nose into a hand that hung down from a cha

PTE

ut Crucifix Alley or Hell Fire Corner, or one of the little places not shown on any map, which mean so much more to the actual fighting man than all the big towns rolled together. Pipes would come out and men would draw together in the smo

elf strolling out past the lodge gates for a ramble. Sometimes one of the other officers accompanied him; but more often he went alon

l, but in days gone by he had accepted a certain order of things as being the only possible order-just as England had been the only possible country. But now it seemed to him that if

s that it did not seem a matter of great ease to put it right. He felt that the glib phrases about Capital and Labour pulling together, about better relations between employers and men, about standing shoulder to shoulder, failed to hit the point. They wer

d; in the heart of a wood, with a little waterfall trickling over some rounded stones and falling musically into the pond a few feet below. The afternoon sun used to shine through the branches of some great beec

s of a type which had not formerly been part of his daily programme. He was groping towards knowledge, and he deliberately sought every help for the way. He tried some of H. G. Wells's to start

g, their conversation, on the rare occasions they had met at Rumfold Hall, had been confined to the most commonplace remarks, and those always in the presence of someone else. Any possibility of a tête-à-tête she had avoided;

ked scrambling to his

e come in the

oldly. "And after your abominable rudeness last time we

"Though, if it's any comfort to you to know, I was much rud

nd your spare time. The habits of an ill-mannered boor are not of great importance, are they?"

e behind her made her paus

of her lips began to twitch. "You really are the most imp

ted to a small mossy bank beside him. "Come

s hesitation sh

fter a moment. "I might want you to flirt with me in ord

want," sh

the officia

e official list,"

And I rely on you to answer me truthfully. . . . Do you think I should be a more attractive being; do you think I should be more capable of gra

zement. "Are you trying to be

ous in my life. But, in that book,"-he pointed to one lyin

the title. "But this is the book e

not fashionable

y dissect r

bout; clever things, all most cleverly told. But whenever there's a sort of gap to be filled up, a mauvais quart d'heure after luncheon, the hero runs off and deals with a mouse. A

ticularly dense," she said after a while,

thought at all-but if I ever did I thought straight. Now my mind is running round in circles. I chase after it; think I'm off at last-and th

g all the highb

that alone; and, secondly-I'm hoping . . . still hoping. . . ." He took out his cigarette case and offered it to her. "I f

he world of men and women around them from the pure cold light of reason. . . . Brain rules them, and they make brain rule their creations. Instead of stoma

ople happy too, it's bound to help things along a bit, isn't it? It strikes me that whatever people write, or say, everything w

d Vane feebly, "don't yo

the man's next door. And you'll do most good by living that life, as you want to live it. If you really want to reform other people-well go and do it, and get a thick ear. . . . It's part of your job. But if you don't want to, there's no earthly use trying to pretend you do; y

urse, and the W.A.A.C. uniform makes me look a fright. I may not realise the horrors over the water; I don't want to. And do you suppose half these women who talk about them so glibly do eith

of a temporary lull in the flood, "to hav

h the happy recipients amongst the also rans." She paused a moment, and a sudden tender look came into her eyes. "Of course there are exceptions. There's a boy I know-he's a cousin of mine-with weak lungs. Rejected for the Army three times as totally unfit. For the last four years he's been living in a slum off Whitechapel

d Vane slowly.

. . . If you loved such a life you'd just do it. . . . And you'd succee

ngerous doctrin

es' lives to one's religion. But it seems to me that God," she hesitated, as if at a loss for words to express herself-"that God-and one's surroundings-make one what one is. . . . And unless one is very cert

sely. But you've dodged the one vital question-for me, at any r

thoughtfully. "I'm certain of that. . . . It'll come in a flash to yo

n silence, both busy w

irl laughe

ecame serious. The big grey eyes looked steadily, almost curiously, at the face of the man beside her. "I wonder why," she whispered almost below he

ecoming uncomfortably aware that grey eyes with a certain type of chin

looked up at her with a smile, but her eyes

of me," she continued after a moment,

fifteen should be in

e what you were then-and you weren't filled with all

nother scalp to the col

e d

rds him. "Will you forgive me for what I said

red Vane. "I gues

said. I mean about-the other. . . . I'd just hate to forget that there's a wedding comin

an," said Vane softly

t three Colonials are waiting for my ministrations." She stood looking down at hi

ndivided attention to bear on the subject which is so essential for my education. Besides-perhaps you'll h

share already. . . ." She scrambled on to the path and Vane fell into step

ntial for me to have continual ev

re not quite as serious as you make out. You've got all

k, by one who must be obeyed. And in the intervals between periods of cold asceticism when I deal with the highbrows,

le of comic relief," she said sweetly. "Thanks

conceded Vane with a grin. "And yet the pleasures of life fill

turned into the Lodge Gates. "Do you think it's safe to trust yourself to

illing to be reminded of Margaret. And he was far too old a stager not to realise that he was heading dire

gently. "Poor young man," she murmured; "

ial patients were approaching. "Put that way," he said, "I feel that

ve Father and Aunt Jane first. You'll like Aunt Jane, she's as deaf as a post and very bloodthirsty-

e was trouble brewing. They would further have hazarded a second guess as to the form it was likely to take. And both guesses would have been right. A young man, remarked Joan to herself, who would be a

TER

to their last meeting-and she had answered it. Cases were still pouring in and she was very busy. When she did have a moment to herself she was g

he whole of the front of Rumfold Hall. The awning above it had been specially erected for the benefit of the patients and Vane pulled one of the lounge chairs back from the stone balustrade, so that his face was shaded from the sun. It was a favourite spot of his, and now, with Margaret's letter outspread beside him, and his pipe held between his knees, he commenced to fill the bowl.

TATIONARY

ND

es. Never a whimper; never the slightest impatience. . . . they're just wonderful. One expects it from the officers; but somehow it strikes one with a feeling almost of surprise when one meets it in the men. There's one of them, a boy of eighteen, with both his legs blown off above the knee. He just lies there silently, trying to understand. He never worries or frets-but there's a look in his eyes-a puzzled, questioning look sometimes-which asks as clearly as if he spoke-"Why

what I propose to do myself after the war, I consider it only fair to let you know. I said to you then that perhaps my job might only be to help you to fulfil your own destiny, and nothing which I have decided since alters that in any way. If you still want me after the war-if we find that neither o

ur: but these years in France have at any rate not been wasted. The question of money does not come in luckily, and the work attracts me imm

ring the night, when I've been seeing dream pictures in my reading lamp and the ward has been asleep. Have you thought that possibly that is the line along which you might develop? Don't you think it's worth trying, Derek? And then, perhaps-this is my wildest dream, the raving of a fevered brain-the day will come when you and I can stand toge

difficult. I hope to be getting some leave soon: we ca

GAR

ite as fine as Rumfold, and the grounds are bigger. His wife died when the son was born, and I rather think there is a daughter, but she was away at a

t only fifty. Say you know Dad

And yet-Margaret might be right. . . . One never knows till one tries: and Vane grinned to himself as that hoary platitude floated through his mind. . . . Then his thoughts passed to the other side of the picture. Margaret, dispensing admonition and pills, in her best professional manner, to long queues of the great unwashed. He felt certain that she would prefer that section of the community to any less odoriferous one. . . . And she'd probably never charge anything, and, if she did, he would have to stand at the door and collect it, probably in penny stamps. Vane's shoulders shook a little as this engaging tableau presented itself. . . . What about the little hunting box not far from Melton, where, in the dear long ago, he had always pictured himself and his wife wintering? Provided always the mythical She

and for Margaret, at her age and with her attractions, to go fooling around with medicine, with the mistaken idea that she was benef

ss his memory. It was so clear that it might almost have been spoken in his

d there would be nothing more to say about it; she had a perfect right to decide for herself. She left him free-that he knew; he could still carry out his hunting box programme in

Vane," she remarked aff

ank you, Lady

id? Marshal Foch seems

s '

eem to be sitting up and t

an. "I can't make 'ead or tail of it all myself-but my 'usband likes to 'ave everything up to da

ved a discr

ch account where the poor fellows are. You may move a pin from 'ere to there, and fe

. "You've got a way o

hits the nail on t

t to France laughing and cheerful; and I've seen 'em come back. They laugh just as much-perhaps a bit more; they seem just as cheerful-but if you love 'em as I do you come to something which was

d woman possessed in her some spark of the understanding which is almost Divine. . . . And Vane, with a quick flash of insigh

y small audience-mostly newcomers-around him was holding forth on th

's the fellow who's got my money on him. No nonsense about Foch. Of course it's going to be cos

quietly. "And one that from time immemoria

thoughts. They had reached a stage, indeed, whence he preferred not to follow them further. Doubtless by t

d out where the old man was living in the village, and, a few minutes later, he was strolling down the drive towards his house. He found the little garden, just as perfectly kept as had

. "I'm honoured to see you, sir." Then as he saw the three stars on Vane's

laughed Vane. "One never knows what anybody is these day

changed, sir-and I'm thinking the missus and I are getting too old to keep pace with them. Take young Blake, sir-down the village, the grocer's son. Leas

ilish good one too, Jo

what's going to happen afterwards, sir, that's what I want to know? Is young Bob Blake going to put on his

you, John," said Vane. "Bob Bla

heir equals-like. And the real gentry won't think no more nor no less of them when they goes back to their proper station. . . . But there'll b

man's eyes strayed in

and he

hat He made them richer and poorer, and some of one class, and some of another. As long

erstand that a khaki uniform unlocks doors on which a suit of evening clothes bought off the peg and a made up tie fail to produce any impression. If only he realises that those doors are

the Fiddlers' Arms, for a glass of what they do call beer-'tis dreadful stuff, sir, that there Government beer. . . ." Old John sighed mournfully at the thought of what had been. "I was sitting in there, as I says,

'" he says, 'how

han they do in England,' sa

uirmed for a moment, while the others laughed. 'Don't you kno

likely to do, my lad,' says I, 'won't be done till

you mean

I, 'if they used you as manure.'" Old John, completely ove

ially recovered. "He got redder and redder, and then he suddenly

quiet like, because I

getting on dan

e goes on, and then for a few minutes I let him talk. He and his precious friends were going to see that all tha

listened to your damned nonsense for five minutes-now you listen to me. When you-with your face all covered with pimples, and your skin all muddy and sallow-start talking as you've been talking, there's only one thing should be done. Your mother should take your trousers down and smack you with a hair brush; though likely you'd cry with fright before she started. I was his Lordship's serv

ravo!" said Vane quietly

s coming. Big trouble. . . . All those youngsters with their smattering of edication, and their airs and their conceits and their 'I'm as good as you.'" He fell silent and sta

y help 'em when it c

hook his head doubtfully. "Perhap

ne had experienced a sense of irritation at the exertion of writing to some dead boy's parents or wife he was amply repaid now. Such a little trouble really; such a wonderful return of gratitude even though it be unknown and unacknowledged. . . . "You'll see there, sir," said the old man, "what his officer said. I can't see myself without my glass

stood up and gave the letter back. "It's a fine letter;

it of an evening. It sort of comforts her. . . . Somehow it's hard to think of him dead. . . ." His lips quivered for a moment, and then suddenly he turned fiercely on Vane. "And yet, I

ck on the pavement, and shaking his head slowly. It was only when Vane got to the turning that old John picked up his can a

PTE

thought intruded itself that it might be advisable to take a few mental compass bearings and to ascertain his exact position before going any further, he dismissed them as ridiculous. Such thoughts have been similarly dismissed be

w this path," she said

Rumfold pretty well in the old days.

anybody," she remarked uncompromisingly. "I

ghed Vane. "I will walk a few pace

early for lunch." She looked at her wrist watch. . . . "I said one o'clock and i

this side of the bush and you sit on the other and in a quarter of an hour we

e was not very well known-but from nowhere could the house be seen to better advantage. The sheet of placid, unruffled water with its low red boathouse: the rolling stretch of green sweeping up from it to the house broken only

in her grey eyes. It was a look of protection, of ownership, of fear, all combined: a look such as a tigress might give if her young were threatened. . . . And suddenly there rec

her arm swept the whole perfect vista. "Isn't it worth while doing anything-anything at all-to keep that as one's own? That has belonged to us for five hundred

expected and unwelcome arrival on the scene that had made her take him into his confidence. Eviden

ce of such a tragedy as

sted on the old house. "Oh! what's the good of talking?" she went on after a moment. "What has to be-has to be; but, oh! it makes me mad to think of it. What good does it do, what purpose in the schem

iantly, and he wis

r their rent; he's just idolised by them all. And now he's got to go-unless. . . ." She paused and her two hands clenched suddenly. Then she continued, and her voice was quite calm. "I know I'm talking rot-so you needn't pay any attention. The great thinkers are all agreed-aren't they?-that

k butcher? Suppose it was someone who-well, let's

e same. It's ours, don't you see?-it's ours. It's always been ours

t to make a bow to Aunt Jane. Mind you tell her you've k

pression and chatted gaily

n," she remarked, as they reached the drive;

ked. "I've already had one serious dissertation this morn

cried the girl. "A

on the land question,"

d him. "Don't you?"

a very serious young man; an

she looked at him over her shoulder. "I hope your search will be successful," she remarked; "and I hope still more that when it is successful you won't commit suici

t's ear-trumpet. And Vane was left wondering at the

*

to see him, especially when he d

irl?" he asked as the

as her name

, and at the same moment he became acutely aware that a pair o

" he answered casually, but a soft gur

etion," mocked Joan. "I shouldn't be sur

What do you think, Vane?" He was mercifully spared the necessity of answering by the intervention of Au

led, young man?" she boomed at him, at the sa

," howled Vane;

e remarked, "is full of war. . . . Rather fuller-like a good

ven a Boche-in imagination than in reality. . . . Though I

"of the scrap between the Black Tyrone and the Pathans? Mulvaney

rom the time we went over till the finish, and he never-if he could avoid it-struck a man anywhere except in the stomach. . . . And incidentally he could quote mor

re will ever get it-so I suppose it's not much use trying. But one can't help thinking that if only a few of the pe

to shepherd a personally conducted Cook's party to France of the British working man. They get their legs pulled right and left by everybody

taken really into th

parapet," grinned Vane. "It's not a thi

Aunt Jane again contributed to the conversation. "I'm

ane's look of bewilderment. To his relief the old lady did not adjust her trumpet, so

making people understand. But if I had my way I'd take some of these blackguards who are

bombardment on," suppl

's vile; it's abominable-exploiting their country's danger for their own po

addy, unless you go on with

uch as are delivered daily by the old order in every part of the country. And the thing that perplexed Vane more and more as he listened, and periodically returned a non-committal "Yes" or "No," was where the fallacy lay. These were the views he had been brought up on; they were

ne. What do they care? Not a dam, sir, not a dam. More money, money-that's all they want. They know the State won't dare a lock-out-and they trade on it. . . . Why don't they conscript 'em, sir?-why don't they put

nflated wages. . . . He simply can't do it, and that's an end of it. But now, of necessity it's been a case of surrender-surrend

"Surely the matter can be put in front of them so that they will unde

an talk; men like Ramage, and others of his kidney. A few meaningless but high flown phrases; a few such parrot cries as 'Down with the Capitalist and the Future is for the Worker,' and you've got even the steadiest man unsettle

ut so busily?" Aunt Jane once aga

ereux," he roared. "Troub

ns on that are well known," she boomed. "Put

for all evil," said S

vereux who would recommend the same

on shooting till there are no more left to shoot. I

ng. And while they're finding out the simple fact that no employer can pay a guinea for a pound's worth of work the country will cras

ed Joan. "You're such a

re decently you treat 'em-the more they want. . . . People talk about the old order changing; what I want to know is what they're going to put in its place?

hat you are not exactly

with a side

he spluttered, and then he saw his daughter's face. She was

They know themselves that Socialism is a wild impossibility; they know that equality is out of the question, and yet they preach it to men who have not got their brains. It's a dangerously attractive doctrine

Almighty's dictates are less likely to be questio

e their conditions . . . give them better houses . . . stop sweated labour. That is our privilege and our duty. But if they continu

money's worth this ti

aid Joan

ted localities the system of small holdings is utterly uneconomical and unsuccessful. It means ceaseless work, and a mere pittance in return. You know Northern France-well, you've got the small holdings scheme in full blast there. What time do they get up in the morning; what time do they go to bed at night? What do they live on? And from what you know of your own fellow countrymen, do you think any large percentage

k his chair and they

etter carry on the good work." She put her arm round his waist, and her fathe

Dad, this after

its grip. He turned quickly and stared out of the window; at the wonderful bit of England that lay before him. Quiet and smiling in the warm sun, it lay there-a symb

t a lot of business to attend to. That wretched

teep," cried the girl.

but things are bad. After all, he has

waster," cr

d her father simply.

said, patting his arm, and looking

ck sigh, he bent and kissed her. "Run along and take Vane out on the lake. I'll come down later a

asked, and in her eyes there was a strange

wed her into the open window and t

udden appearance apparently stirred some train of thought in her mind. As he came up to her sh

al at meeting such a kindred spirit, and replaced the foghorn on the ground beside her. H

ear old Aunt Jane-I remember sitting up with her most of one nigh

ey came to a turn in th

dy dozing gently-at pe

PTE

t even be remotely twisted into being serious," said

hing luck a party of four could have crossed the Atlantic in it. Innumerable cushions scattered promiscuously served to m

he murmured. "What sha

owly they drifted out into the sunshine. "So sh

ut as I rather gather you're an insistent sort of p

nerally get my

wered Vane.

I've often heard dad speak about Mr. Trent; and I

being finished." Vane

so in a letter I

r a moment. "Did you

u're at home," said Vane shortly

her knowing?" pe

" demanded Vane with a

s again. "There are people," she said calmly, "who

a water-hen was becoming vociferous. "Or do you pursue the line taken up by a woman I met last time I was on leave? She was a Wraf or a Wren or something of that kind, and at the time she was in mufti. But to show how up to date she w

ed on the reeds, "that that is beastly. It's

grimly. "However, arising out of that remark,

object of nine women out of ten.

to return-in what way do your chari

t the sort of natural, you know, that loves cows and a country life, and gives t

andford," said V

ad rested on the old house. "Blandford is just part of me. It's different. Besides

ding," said Vane, skat

to dance a skirt dance in a London ballroom, I do it. But some people seem to think it's fast. I made quite a lot of money once dancing at a restaurant with a man, you know-in between the tables. Of course w

laughed Vane. "What

ich threatened to become chronic," she returned dreamily. "That's a thi

Occasionally she pulled two or three gentle strokes with the oars, but for the most par

" And as he spoke a fat old carp rose almost under the boat and took an u

what I am. . . . And just as with that fly, fate comes along suddenly, doesn't it, and pouf . . . it's all over! All its li

, to shoot your mouth, as our friends across the wate

ther like." It was the first time that she had called him by his Christian name, and

enough let's get the boat under that weeping willow. I'm thinking we migh

. Then he turned round, and stood for a while watching the girl as she made herself comfor

alth. Gold and silver and precious s

s destined to become his wife would join in the chor

at the man possessed of great wealth began to sit up and take notice. 'Behold,' he said to himself, 'I have all that my heart desireth, saving only one thing. My material possessions grow and increase daily, and, as long as people

"It is the duty of all story tellers to get their atmosphere correct. . . ." He sat do

all listeners to control their imp

murmured Vane. "Pr

the daughters of the people. Peradventure, she may be rich-peradventure she may be poor; but since I have enough of the necessary wherewithal to support the entire beauty chorus which appears nightly in the

And Vane-because he was a man, and because the girl so close to him was more th

he man of wealth-thereby inspiring confidence in all who read, and incidentally pouching some of the Bradburys. He further considered it possible that by filling his guest with food and much wine, he might continue the good work on other prospectuses, thereby pouching more Bradburys. In the vulgar language in v

s had seated themselves, that the man of great wealth chanced to look up from his rusk. He frequently did look up when consuming these delicacies, otherwise he found they made

sound better

ff, and her neck and shoulders gleamed white-gloriously white. A great mass of brown hair which shimmered as if it was alive; a little oval face, with cheeks that seemed as if the sun had kissed them. A mouth quite small, with lips that parted in a mocking smile; a nose-well, just a nose. But crowning everything-dominating everything-a pair of great grey eyes. What eyes they were! They made the man of wealth bolt his rusk. There was one mouthful he only chewed fifteen times instead of the customary thirty-two. They contained all Heav

ent. "But you are really rather a

rn now," said

might help to keep the damn woman quiet for a bit; and, besides everybody was giving dances. It was the thing to do, and warriors fresh from the fierce battle were wont to step lightly on the polished floor. As a matter of his

uckled Vane; "q

of propping up the walls and looking on. Besides what made it even more dangerous for them was that kind-hearted women took compassion on them, and their ow

then a girl in grey gauzy stuff floated past him-and once, only once, he found himself looking into those big g

an easy victim to the snag parade-and women fainted and men wept when

?" murmu

have given him one dance. But instead all she did was to shake with laughter as she saw him quivering in a corner held fast in the clutch of the human steam engine. She heard the blows he was receiving; they sounded like

ane slowly. .

en she looked at Vane. "She found out la

ching a used match into the water, and stuffing

he feast. The band had gathered in all the coal-scuttles and pots it could, and was hitting them hard with pokers when the historical m

dance with hi

even as she went off with a boy in the Flying Corps

rk," murm

of great possessions was not accustomed to disguising his feelings; and the girl-t

for a while they ne

ccepted lines, I suppose,

suggested that she should honour him by accepting his name and wealth

ay 'Yes' at once,"

l. "And as a matter of fac

rl's face was half-turned away, and for a moment Vane watched the lovely profile gravely. "And then," he went on slowly, "with a sigh she sits down in the big arm-chair close to the window, and the black dog comes in and settles on her. In another room in the house she sees her father, worrying, wondering whether anything can be done, or whether the glory that has been theirs for hundreds of years must pass into the hands of a stranger. . . . And after a while the way out comes into her thoughts, and she stirs restlessly in her chair. Because, though the girl in grey is one of the set in her trib

tiful in their own badly dressed way. Timidly they watch from their corner-hoping, hoping. . . . And then at last they just disappear. They're only dream ideas, you see; I suppose they can't stand daylight and tea with saccharine in it, and reality. . . . It's as they float towards the window that sometimes they hear the girl talking to herself. '

t times, my lady, isn't it?" he murmured. "And, incidentally, I'm thinking I didn't tell the grey girl's story quite right. Because it wasn't herself that she was thinking of most; though," and his eyes twinkled, "I do

troubled look. "Tell me, oh man of much unde

e sighs. The next moment the car is at the front door, and she is in the arms of a man who has come out to meet her. She calls him 'Dad,' and there's a boy just behind him, with his hands in his pockets, who has eyes for nothing except the car. Because it's 'some' car. . . . She spends the day there, and when she's leaving, the man she calls 'Dad' puts his hand on her arm. He just looks at her-that's all, and she smiles back at him. For there's no worry now on his face, no business trouble to cut lines on his brow. But sometimes-he wonders; and then she just smiles at him, and his doubts vanish. They never put it into words those two, and perhaps it is as well. . . . A smile is so easy, it conceals so much. Not that there's much

ife," she whispered. "I

re have made a damn fool of myself.' To throw away the chances of costly furs and sparkling gems; to see les papillons noirs fluttering round her father's head in in

s him, and her lips were parted slightly. For a moment or two he watched the sl

lly bossing the entire show. He is reputed by his nurse, who is old enough to know better, to have just spoken his first consecutive sentence. To the brutal and unimaginative father who is outside with his golf clubs it had sounded like 'Wum-wah!' According to the interpreter it meant that he wanted an egg for tea; and it was being duly entered up in a book which contained spaces for Baby's first tooth, the first time he was sick, when he smashed his first toy-and othe

od sort of handicap,

at means he gives her six str

doesn't," c

hole, with the most enormous sand bunker guarding the green on the right. And though for nine holes neither of them has sliced, at the tenth they both do. And if by chance one of them doesn't, that one

was dimpling g

and then she'll whisper, 'My dear, my dear-but it's good to be alive,' but most times they just kiss.

e finished their

and they drive away to where the purple heather merges into the violet of the moors! And it's great. Perhaps they'll come back to dinner, or perhaps they'll have it somewhere and come home when the sun has set and the stars are gleam

to the girl in grey that the road was getting familiar? There was an old church she recognised and lots of landmarks. And then suddenly they drive past some lodge gates, and there-

he man's part," said Vane. "He

e answered sadly. "Even in the bunker at t

elieve it,

," answere

ringing over the water, and

id. "I suppose we oug

e on," he laughed, holding out his hand to hel

and for a moment they loo

be happy, my dear, so happy." An

he boat-house, where Sir

ied cheerily, and Joan waved her ha

oftly. "I've just loved it. . . ." Vane said nothing, but jus

y," he whispered, "that it

y, of course. . . . There's your beaten track to find, an

nd round it." Vane's h

you're ri

ust before they came within earshot that Vane spoke ag

"I think I would. .

PTE

s peace of mind. He had been over to call, and had discovered that she had gone North very suddenly, and it was not certain when she would return.

e by the little waterfall, and, ligh

vereux is marrying a millionaire to save the family. You are marrying Mar

ess, staring at the pool. He did not see the green of the undergrowth; he did not hear a thrush pouring out its little soul from a bush close by. He saw a huddled, shap

y, lying back on a mass of cushions, with a faint mocking light in h

derisively. "Go to the devil," said Vane. "Compared with Margare

f think that the way of a man with a maid depends on the doing of things that are worth while."

rew a stone at it. Try as he would he could not check a thought which rioted through

frog. "Without even leaving you a line? She's just been

we'll cut it right out. We will resume our studies, old bean; we will endeavour to find out by what possible method Bolshevism-vide her august papa-can be ke

And may be, in spite of his derisive critic, who still croaked from the edge of the pool, his thoughts were not entirely

ement, found himself granted a month's sick leave, at the expiration of which he was to go before yet another Board. And so having shaken han

hat if she considered that she had found her particular job he, for one, would most certainly not attempt to dissuade her. With regard to himself, however, the matter was somewhat different. At present he fai

More Money and Less Work. . . . Surely to Heaven there must be a way out; some simple way out. We didn't have this sort of thing over the water. We were pals over there; but here every single soul loathes every other single soul like poison. . . . Can it be that only by going back to the primitive, as we had to do in France, can one find happiness? The idea is preposterous. . . . And, yet, now that I'm here and have been here these months, I'm longing to come back. I'm sick of it. Looking at this country with what I call my French eyes-it nause

fold. A nice old man, but money, or rather the lack of it,

and began to trace patterns idly on the blotting

. Fears an organised strike-financed by enemy money-if not during, at any rate after, the war. The country at a standstill-anarchy, Bolshevism. 'Pon my soul, I can't help thinking he's right. As soon a

ay with Nancy Smallwood, who has a new craze. You remember at one time it used to be keeping parrots-and then she went through a phase of distributing orchids throu

in Bond Street, and s

orrow . . . Savoy . .

er . . . Intensely

h the mammon of unrighteousness these days. . . . Life may depend on it. . . . He's such a dear, too. . . . Certain he'll never

mposing, she may escape with the loss of an arm when the crash comes. She'll probably send the receipted bills to Ramage by special me

strolled out of the smoking-room and posted the letter. Then, refusing the

e had any knowledge was when she insisted on keeping a hen and feeding it with a special preparation of her own to increase its laying capacity. This necessitated it being kept in the dr

be. Everyone whom he had ever met called down curses on the man's head, but as far as he could remember he had never heard him described. Nor did he recollect ever having seen a

ng a little worried. Incidentally she always did look worried, with that sort of helpless pathetic air with whic

to her. "Mr. Ramage hasn't come yet. .

t till he does." He hailed a passing waiter. "Tell me, w

come. You would never think for a moment when you saw him that he sympathised with all these dreadful Bolsheviks and Soviets and things; and that he disapproved of money and property and everything that makes life worth living. .

bably give you a vote of thanks in Parliament, Nancy, to say nothi

he murmured. . . . "Far, far better than you and I do. I always mash my bread sauce up with th

d as that! I was hoping he'

oming down the stairs now. . . ." She held out her hand to him as

s watch. "A thousand apologies, Mrs. Sma

her into the restaurant. And in his first quick glance Vane was cons

han brilliance is generally associated. He recalled what he had read in the papers-paragraphs describing meetings at which Mr. Ramage had taken a prominent part, and his general recollection of most of them seemed to be summed up in the one sentence . . . "the meeting then broke up in disorder, Mr. Ramage escaping with difficulty through a window at the back." Somehow he could not see this decorous gentleman opp

they triumphed so completely over their indifferent setting that Vane marvelled at his previous obtuseness. Martyrs have had such eyes, and the great pioneers of the world-men who have deemed

sses towards discontent and revolt; this was the man of intellect who was deliberately using his gift to try to

le hovered for a second around his lips, as if he ha

ing very well over th

we've got those arch swine beaten at las

faint smile hovered on his face. "Of which much maligned substi

eneral opinion

as so completely wrong as to have justified the holders of the oppos

y such account. The issues involved are a little above my form. All I do know is, th

lood-thirsty opinions. . . . One sometimes thinks, when one is in a particularly foolish mood,

hey have learned the sublime lesson of pulling together. It seems a pity, Mr. Rama

past minute she had been shooting little bird-like glances at a neighbouring table, and now she leaned forward impressively. "There are

ying for you! I am so sorry. . . . Shall I go away, and then

hed pathetically. "Do go on talking, you two. I do so love

put me amongst the highbrows. I'm groping . . .

e glanced at him

here everybody seems to be pals; here. . . . Great Scott!" He shrugged his shoulders. After a while he went on-"Over there we got rid of

thoughtfully. "Because," he remarked in a curiously dee

answered Vane cynically, "is certainly t

uppose we should have had a war? As it was, a few men were capable of ordering millions to th

fanning class hatred?" demanded

the issue lies in the hands of

ws. "I have generally

bringing thin

ess a thing which by right is yours, and you demand the return of i

possess which Labour considers should

shoulders. "Labour may be forcing that issue, Captain Vane; but it will be the other man who is responsible if the fight comes. . . . Labour demands fair treatment-not as a con

t shop. . . . Surely the owner must have the principal say in calling the tune." For a few moments he stared at the man opposite him, and then he went on again, with increasing earnestness-with almost a note of appeal in his voice. "I want to get at your point of view, Mr. Ramage-I want to understan

oundings-I see a waiter regarding me suspiciously. Thanks-no; I don't smoke." He traced a pattern idly on the cloth for a moment, and then looked up quickly. "I would like you

incredulous laugh,

ugh the men hardly realise it themselves, it's there, that conflict, all the time. . . . And we, who see a little further than the mob, know that it's there, and that sooner or later that conflict will end in victory for one side or the other. Which side, my friend? Yours or ours. . . . Or both. Yours and ours. . . . England's." He paused for a moment as the waiter handed him the coffee. Then he went on-"To the master-class generally there is a certain order of things, and they can imagine

ied, hurriedly collecting her though

swept away. . . . We want the entire propertied class removed. We deny that there are any inherent rights which go with the possession of pro

"you claim for the masses the right

you and us. For just so long as you are convinced that your vested right is the true one, and that ours is false-for just so long wi

property, would go into the last ditch in defence of what was mine." Into his mind there flashed Joan's words. . . . "It's ours. I tell you, ours," and he

ernment-a Government which at heart is Socialistic. And their first move will be to nationalise all the big industries. . . . Ho

bbery is robbery, just the same whether its sanctioned by an Act of Parliament, or whether it's performed by a m

e leaders-the k

ey can lead," said Vane doggedly. "They will come to

. . . But the fruits of labour will only be for those who do the work-be it with their hands or be it with their heads. The profiteer must go; the private owner must go with his dole here and his dole there, gene

ion-fresh plant? Where's

inal purchaser. . . . And the profiteer goes out of the picture. . . . That's what we're aiming at; that is what is coming. . . . No more men like the gentleman sitting thr

w like you, will ever hold the mob? . . . You may make your new England, but you'll make it over rivers of bl

ts price," returned the oth

"Have you ever seen a battalion, Mr. Ramage,

ever seen the hovels in whi

ss bureaucracy you find salvation?" said Vane shortly. "You're rather o

d holding out his hand. "It's the vested interest that is at the root of the whole evil-that stands between the old order and the new. Theref

he restaurant with him. Later she would describe the progress to her intima

shall be arrested? . . . If only he allows Bill and me to escape when it comes. . . . The revolution, I mean. . . . I think Monte is the place. . . . But one never knows. . . . Probably the croupi

The grey eyes were fixed on him mockingly, and he felt as if everyone in the room must hear the sudden

ed surprise," she re

r. Baxter-Capt

companion's wrath. Then his glance fell on the bottle of

unexpectedly, Miss Deve

h suddenly." She look

was frighte

. . . ." mu

as in danger of making a fool of herself." Her eyes wer

strophe was avert

ace of a smile hover on her lips; then she turned to her companion. "Ca

ng over again soon?" he

t present," sai

ter in his harsh voice, "your luncheon companion to-d

s. "You are more than k

nk. .

" he said. "But that man Ramage is one of the

to be of the opinion that you are on

fter my workpeople. Pure selfishness on my part, I admit. If I had my way I'd sack the lot and instal machines. But I can't. . . . And if I could, do you suppose I'd neglect my machine. . . . Save a shilling for lubricating oil and do a hundred pounds' worth of damage? Don't you believe it, Captain Vane. . . . But, I'll

ost valuable," she turned to Vane, "to hear two such opinions as hi

inarily helpful to the smooth running of the country afterwards." He had no occasion to like Baxter from any point of view-but apart a

o Joan. "I was sorry that we didn't have anoth

ne," she returned, and Vane's kn

that you won fairly

he moved between the tables; then she looked at Vane. "Your recollections are all wrong," she said softly. The grey eyes held no hint of mockery in them now, they

ind, grey girl," he said in a low

cup, and suddenly with a great rush of pure joy, which w

eard the whispered words

nd saw that Baxter was threading his way back towards them. "This afternoon, Joan, tea

she could answer,

PTE

them was a wild elation at what he had seen in Joan's eyes, but a very good se

being uncompromisingly near the caddish. Did he, or did he not, mean to make

ed him into the arms of an officer and a girl who were standing, apparently waiting

iocre and uninteresting, was clinging to the off

to take a taxi, Bill? L

's blow the lot while we're about i

nd it would have effaced itself as quickly as it had come, but for the very new wedding ring he had

; was there no ge

will have everything, and whatever one takes from it, it will still have, so rich wi

twentieth century. We've a very nice war on where a man

had to marry money. At least he had gathered so. He had asked Margaret to marry him; she had said th

ve a way of influencing the big fellows out of all pro

Mrs. Green, and see if by any chance that stalwart pillar would be able to provide a tea worthy of the occasion. Mrs. Green had a way with her, which seemed to sweep

e up and confer with me on a ma

as if shot from a catapult-to be followed

let himself into his rooms, and pacified Binks temporarily with t

icent gesture that she was fully

sex can." His eyes suddenly rested on Margaret's photo, and he stopped with a frown. Mrs. Green's motherly face beamed

ou'll be very happ

therly of women. Incidentally it's been played before-but it never loses its charm or-its danger. . . ." He gave a short laugh. "My first card is your tea. Toast, Mrs. Green, covere

head. "The butter only

t three pounds of wort

e enough," said Vane a

nt on the worthy woman. "Fresh made be

on to-day have to pay half a crown for a small dog biscuit?" Vane rubbed his hands together. "After your tea, and possibly during it-I shal

His tail thumped the floor feverishly, and his great brown eyes glowed with a mute inquiry. "To walk, or not to walk"-that w

rry jam; mellowed by saffron cake-Binks will complete the conquest. Then will come the crucial moment. No one, not eve

m. In moments of extreme feeling she sometimes reverted to the language of her fathers, with its soft West Country

" cried Vane, taking the kindly old hand in both his own. "If I wasn't afr

ce was wreathed in smiles. "You ring when you want the tea, M

as she descended. And not for the first time did he thank his lucky s

t the door with a slight frown

he muttered. "I wonder if I'm b

He tidied up the golf clubs and a bundle of polo sticks, and pitched the boxing gloves under a settee in the corner from which Binks promptly retrieved them. In fact, he

xer puts the sleep dope. . . . I think I'll just go and wash my ha

ot, behind which he fancied he had detected a sound. With the chance of a mouse

Even Binks, scenting that things were afoot, ceased to blow, and cocked his head on one side expectantly. Then he growled, a lo

stion in Binks's mind. Here was evidently an enemy of no mean order who dared to come where angels fear

And so he barked twice at the intruder who stood outside, watching his master with a faint smile.

ght of her every other thought left his h

Hullo, old fellow," she said. "You sure have got a great head on you." She bent over him, and put her hand on t

nervously. "He's a little fu

towards him. Vane nodded approvingly, though he said nothing; as a keen dog lover it pleased him intensely to see that the girl knew h

the hand in front of him. His mind was made up. Just one short, welcoming lick, and he trotted back to his

he other member of the firm is no

ter talk about rather less dangerous topics. . . ." She glanced round her, and then went to the window a

e tea? My devoted landlady is preparing a repast which millionaires would s

me?" she cried, turni

" answe

ell-what do you think o

slowly towards him, and suddenly Vane caught both her hands. "Joan, Joan," he cried,

something really crushing about th

p almost hurt her, but she made

that-I just must." Gently she disengaged her hands,

ith a smile to Joan. "Since the days of my callow yout

ome watching too, Mrs

young gentleman that doesn't, Miss," she said, "and I'l

hen with a final-"You'll ring if you w

er! Is it a phrase from a dead language?" He pulled up a ch

teapot. "A big, fat tea," she murmured, "wi

uietly. Their eyes met, and suddenly Vane leaned forward. "Tell me, grey girl," h

really meant it. I tell you quite honestly that I had meant to punish you; I had meant to flirt

ne eagerly. .

girl. "I didn't know you were such a dear.

I did deserve it-I've had the fall. . . . And oh! my dear, to think you're crash

iolence she turned on Vane. "Why did you do it?" she stormed. "Why . . . why . . .?" For a while they looked at one another

vely. "We've done nothing to deserv

would meet-and hold. Just for a moment or two; just for long enough to make them both realise the futility of the game they were playing. Then

hole-desired refreshment, and from time immemorial tea had been the one meal at which he was allowed to

informed her, "with p

with your finger to se

give you if it

ng household," laughed Joan, pu

ly. "I hope you feel equa

eside her drinking his tea, and gave

had outlined in my mind. First you were to be charmed and softened by Mrs. Green's wonderful tea. Secondly, you were to see Binks; be formally introduc

interrupted irrelevantly; "but I beg to point o

shower of tea drops that goes backwards on to the carp

is beard." She pointed an accusin

ed it through that si

hostess are not all t

d to overlook it for on

e thirdl

nd with a faint smile hovering rou

irdly safe?

nderful. A suitable clima

a rehearsa

anter to see I hadn't

he app

ther inclined to think, might be better," h

er than your thirdly," she murmured. "Incidentally, am I failing again in my obvious duties? It seems to me t

u could very well have known; it's outside the usual etiquette book." He handed her t

and then, a little puzzled, he dropped it. Impossible to conceive that it was really dead at last-and yet, it

s. Bring it here. . . ." Binks laid it obediently at Vane's feet. "It should

egarded it gravely, while Binks, in a state of fe

ously; "get on with it, for Heaven's sake! Do

ice that shook, "I think the metal squeak

d the girl, and her voice was very low.

from Vane's hand

st in matters of import," thought Binks-and then wit

ne caught the girl to him, and she did not resist. He kissed her eyes, her hair, her lips, while sh

t, don't," she whispered. "You make it

ngly. "It's easy that I've made it,

air into shape, and then she

, and fixed it in its appointed hole, while Vane, with a glorious joy surging through him, leaned against the mantelpi

simpler alternative,"

r wisdom

he old battle of heart against head was being waged. She was so acutely alive to his presence just behind her; so vitally conscious of his nearness. Her whole body was crying aloud for the touch of his hands on her again-

wn her arms. She felt herself lifted up towards him, and with a little

" she whispered. "Q

accord, she kissed h

r of pained disgust he regarded them stolidly for a few minutes. Then he had a good scratch on both sides o

be just too wonderful if it could alwa

horrible outsider, I suppose, and perhaps you or somebody will have to order food every year or so. . . . But except for that-why, we'll j

, fleeting smile;

ust hell, sometimes.

ke the he

we make it ourselves, d

fiercely. "We're wha

started pulling o

wing a halo as a visionary." Vane looked sideways at the girl. "He manages to make his own life, Joan. He'd be as happy with

it," he cried, "and why can't we cheat 'em, Joan? Cheat all th

ghly or snatch at it and put it in a cage, it just pines away an

dear. I can hear it fluttering so gently near the window. . . .

ed discordantly

of lungs on him." She smiled back at him, and then she

like that whenever anybody falls in love, and twice

great gasp, and he pushe

's sake, don't

atch at it, won't even think of making any plans for caging it-we'll just assume it's going to stop. . . . I believe it will then. . . . And af

, right, right. What shall we do, my dear, to c

then her eyes lit up. "You'r

so,

w we will take

Vane. "And I've got

age for the Blue Bird. . . . We'll take our food, and a bone for Binks and the squeaky dog. Then in the evening we'll have dinner at the White Hart, and Binks shall have a napkin and sit up at table. And then after dinner we'

vity. "Not even if we're arrest

silly boy," she cried. "Why would w

her face clouded. "Do not forget-I entreat of you, do not forget-your meat coupon." And then with the laughter that civilisation has decreed shall not be heard often, save on the lips of c

TER

under his breath. He resolutely shut his eyes to the hurrying streams of khaki and blue and black passing in and out of huts

up at half-past nine, with Binks sitt

for the love of Mike, don't put anything on Binks's adversary in the hood. He hasn'

loth for all the attention Vane paid to her clothes. It was her face that held him, with the glow of perfect health on her cheeks, and the soft light of utter ha

ek," she said, "and the

's ever thoug

Vane, and for a momen

Then with a quick chan

d avaunt all seriousne

on you

red reproachfully. "Di

nsulti

e. He just opened one brown eye and looked at her, and then he went peaceful

when the day's work is done and he lies a-dreaming of Home. To some it may be the hills in the Highlands with the wonderful purple mist over them growing black as the sun sinks lower and lower; to others a little golden-sanded beach with the red sandstone cliffs of Devon rising sheer around it, and the tiny waves rippling softly th

ir exile-the theatre, the music and the lights, the sound of women's skirts; or the rolling Downs

ght of The River. Spell it with Capitals; there is only one. Whether it be Bourne End with its broad reach and the sailing punts, or the wooded heights by Clieveden; whether it be Boulter's Lock on Ascot Sunday, or the quiet stretch near Goring-there is

p at her shrine. Only people who make money in tinned goods and things, and are in all respects dread

ing several miles towards Henley, I should have burst into tears. And y

e said. "The first is Binks; he likes to run about. And the second i

She looked at him mockingly, then, with a quick, fierce movement, she took his face between her hands.

d heavily. "Hell! you don't mean to say that we've got that damned ham bone again," he growled. "However, we ought to pick up something when they've finished the exhibition and get down to their lunch. . . ." He thoughtfully pulled

rosaic old gentleman, that water rat, so his peevishness may be forgiven him. After all, a ham bone is a ham bone and pretty poor at that, a

ality; but success justifies any experiment. And the day was successful beyond their wildest dreams. Binks grubbed about in the bank and incidentally gave the love-sic

t aimless, intimate things; they were silent a great deal-those wonderful silences which become possible only with perfect understanding. And gradually the shadows lengthened, and the grey water began to grow darker. . . . Sometimes from the old bridge came the noise of a p

he looked down at the girl, and it seemed to her that his face was sad. Without a word

he bridge that he spoke, just one short s

nk you," and very gently he rai

intense disgust, had to submit to the indignity of a table napkin tied round his neck, and all the occupants of the hotel thought them mad. Incid

rt. There's a little path I know of, leading out of the rose garden where on

n them. And then with his arm round her waist, and her head on his s

und her; "I've said not a word about the future. But to-morr

assionately. "There can only be one answer," he whispered fiercely. "

of them that the air h

k," said Joan as the

have a drink; my aunt

e, and as Vane followed her into the flat it s

" he asked anxiously. "I oug

n the laziest days are sometimes a little exacting!" She laughed

e drawing-room, and Van

Auldf

I see there's one from your father. Perhaps he'll say in

opened her mail, and Vane sto

remain out of bed for one instant after one wishes to go there strikes me as an act of insanity." She moved towards the

ldfearn," he answered. "I shoul

r if Joan is in," she c

ll offended if yo

woman of great discernment is your aunt, Joan." He turned towards her, and

floor, and she gave a little, bitter laugh. "Not even one d

ead part of it, while Vane watched her wit

at last. I've been hoping against hope that I might be able to pull things through, but it simply can't be done. The less will not contain the greater, and my irreducible minimum ex

a phrase here and there. "Gordon to be considered. . . . It means p

more or less settled once again; that is if it ever does get settled. If labour goes on as it

at the floor in front of her, and almost me

as coming, Joan," he

ys hopes." She shrugged her shoulders, and looked up at him. "Give me a cigarette,

he laughing, happy girl at dinner hit him like a blow. If only he could help-do something; but a hundred thousand was an absurdity. His total income

so frightfully much

moment, with a sort of

I simply can't imagine

part of

ou wouldn't live ther

she answered simply. "Why, Derek, don't try to pretend that you don't understa

m at Blandford!" She made no answer, and after a while he went on. "I said I'd come to-morrow, Joan, and ask

lessly and rested h

; I want to hear you say i

he said without the

rry me if there w

answered simply,

ane swept her out of the chair into his arms

for fifty Blandfords. Don't you understand, my grey girl? You've got your sense o

ured incoherent words of love. And then at last they died away, and he fell silent-while she looked at

ng out for myself. I don't want you to come and see me, Derek, until I send for you; I don't want you even

ion, he loved her all the more for her refusal. There was a certain sweet wistfulness on her face that tore at his heart, and at last he realised that he was failing her, and failing

hall be as you say, dear," he said gravel

ft her, staring out into the darkness, and as he paused she turned an

rooms. He helped himself to a whisky and soda of such strength tha

e remarked savag

PTE

l depot in the cathedral city of Murchester. Once before he had been there, on a course, before he went overseas for the first time, and the night he arrived he could not help contrasting the two occasions. On the first he, and everyone else, had had but one th

ft? And the ones that had paid the big price-did they think it had been worth while . . . now? . . . They had been so willing to give their all without counting the cost. With the Englishman's horror of sentimentality or blatant patriotism, they would have regarded with the deepest mistrust anyone who had told them so. But deep down in each man's heart-it was England-his England-that held him, an

opposite ideas, on the settlement of which depended the final issue-it seemed to him that nothing could avert the catastrophe sooner or later. It was against human nature for any class to commit suicide-least of all the class which for generations had regarded itself and been regarded as the leading one

feel that only over the water lay Reality; that here, at

er came back to torment him, and he began to chafe more and more at his forced inaction. Where large numbers of officers are continually passing through a depot, doing light duty while recovering from wounds, there can be nothing much for the majority to do. Twice he had begun a letter to Margaret, to tell her that after all she had been right-that it had been nervous tension-that it wasn't her after all. And twice he had torn it up after the first few lines. It w

, and what was worse-bitter; and he tore it up savagely after he had read it through. He tried desperately to recover some of his old time optimism-and he

r widow, and a phrase she had used to him rang in his brain for many days after. It seemed to him

argaret to make. With all the horror of genteel pauperism staring her in the face, that woman was thinking big, and was keeping her head up. With all the bitt

e country at large? As far as the woman herself was concerned it kept her human, but to the big community . . .? Would even the

wonderful; simple because the most stupid had learned it. And if they had learned it over the water, surely they could rem

ion and playing the game, though it seemed to him he was getting nearer the answer. But these were not fundamental things; they were to a certain extent acquired. He wanted something simpler than

s are here at home; they themselves were here a short while ago-will be back in the future. They are the same breed; they come from the same stock. What is this thi

pel that was preached two thousand odd years ago," he answered shortly. Vane l

oblivion, you'll find your answer in what, after all, the Church stands for." He hesitated for a moment, and glanced at Vane, for he was by nature a man not given to speech. "Take a good battalion in France," he continued slowly. "You know as well as I do what's at the bottom of it-good off

repeated slowly. "Is that you

ou find things are going wrong in your company? You don't snow yourself in with reports in triplicate and bark. You go and see for yourself. Then you go and talk for yourself; and you find that it is either a justifiable grievance which yo

again. Like many reserved men, once the barrier was broken down, he could let himself go with the best

-money; and some will have more than others. Capital and Labour; leader and led; officer and man. . . . In the old days we thought that the best leader for the Army was the sahib; and with the old army we were right. Tommy . . . poor, down-trodden Tommy, as the intellectuals used to call him, was deuced particular. He was also mighty quick on the uptake at spotting the manner of man he followed. Now things have changed; but the principle rema

the leaders, too," said

ned the other. "What el

think it's one of those things that sounds very nice in a pul

which underlies all the work. And the work is ceaseless if the show is going to be a good one. You know that as well as I do. You take an officer who never t

aid Vane, nod

s the vital point-explains things; listens to what they have to say-even makes some small amendments i

ply it to civil l

h plant, why his dividends ain't going to be as big this year as they were last-all that sort of thing. Don't play the fool with them. . . . Dividends may be bigger, and he'll have to stump up. . . . A good many of the bosses will have to alter their ways, incidentally. No man is going to sweat himself in order that someone else up the road can keep a

estion of money?" pursued Vane. "Supposing the me

ld willingly agree to that if they were taken into his confidence and sure he wasn't cooking his books. . . . But when one reads of ten, herded together in one room, and the company paying enormous dividends, do you wonder they jib? I would. Why shouldn't the surplus profit above a fair dividend be split up amongst the workmen? I'm no trade expert

p their tails up, and their chests out? Why-belief and trust in their leaders. And how was it inculcated? By sympathy-nothing more nor less. God above-if it was possible when the stakes we

said Vane thoughtfully. "According to him State control of e

e of their men. And when things are going wrong they'll know it; they'll anticipate the trouble. . . . Sympathy; the future of the Empire lies in sympathy. And this war has taught many thousands of men the meaning of the word. It has destroyed the indiv

arked Vane. "Only he demands complete equal

hen the man's a fool, and a dangerous fool

t to Vane gigantic captures in men and guns meant a very different picture. He saw just the one man crawling on his belly through the mouldering bricks and stinking shell-holes of some death-haunted village. He saw the sudden pause-the tense silence as the man stopped motionless, listening with every nerve alert. He felt

ath and desolation. Endured without a murmur; sticking it always, merry, cheerful, bright-so that

Nations by all manner of means; but a League of Britain was what these men were fighting for. And to every Britisher who is a Brit

tside in the rack," he remarked. He walked over to the fire to warm his hands. "Bring me a

answered. "Not just now. . . . I think I'll read this letter first." And the Adjutant, who was by nature

in. Twice Vane had read the letter through, and th

"I am going to approach you on the subject of leave i

wn his paper, a

e affairs?" he

," returned

ed," he said. "Fire in an applica

id Vane brie

nce looked at the closed door. Then he picked the en

o the flames. He liked to think himself a misogynist, a

are and deliberation he pulled up the arm chair to the blaze. Then he took

E, OFFHAM,

y spreads oneself? . . . Like putting one's bills away for months on end, and then one day becoming insane and paying the whole lot. I've been putting this off, Derek, for what I'm going to write will hurt you . . . almost as much as it hurts me. I'm n

ur them again. They may be right and they may be wrong; I don't know-I've given up trying to think. I suppose one's got to take this

an. And after luncheon in the study he told me all about it. I didn't try to follow all the facts and figures-what was the use? I just sat there looking out over

my happiness and yours, my dear, that would have to be sacrificed to do it. But when the old Dad put his

his furniture-and I, why sometimes I think I hate him. But, oh! my dear, if you'd seen my Father's face; seen the dawning of a wonderful hope. . . . I just

arry any man you didn't love. But if you do love him, little Joan, if y

oo high. I guess I'm a bit weak where you're concerned, boy-a bit weak. And I've got to go through with this. It's my job, and one can't shirk one's job. . . . Only sometimes it seems that one gets saddled with funny jobs, doesn't

ear you to forget me altogether. Just once or twice you'll think of me, and the Blue Bird that we kept for one day in the roses at

saved, or will be on the day I marry him. We are neither of us under any illusions whatever; t

aren't let you do it, my man, because, as I said, I'm so pitifully weak where you are concerned. And I don't know what would happen if you were to take me i

e. They were talking about you at dinner to-night, and my heart started pounding until I thought they

ing was utterly empty. It is so still and silent outside, and the strange, old-fashioned ideas-do you remember your story?-h

creed that we should have to suffer so, though perhaps you'll say it's my decr

er seeing you again; and anyway, I suppose, we're bound to run across one another. Only just at the

r, dear Love, God

O

ll it all is, w

ikes, wars-of what account were they all combined, beside the eternal problem of a man and a woman? For a w

tered to himself. "Thank Heav

PTE

ttons very well, he felt that it would look a little strange if he suddenly walked into their house unannounced; and he had been afraid of wiring or telephoning from London in case he should alarm Joan. He felt vaguely that something would turn up which would give him the excuse he need

en gathered speed again for the last few miles to Lewes. With gloomy eyes he saw Plumpton race-course flash by, and he recalled the last meeting he had attended there, two years before the war. Then they roared through Cooksbridge and Vane straightened himself in his seat. In just about a minute he would come in sight of Melton House, lying amongst the trees under the

y plausible tale to deceive the Suttons as to the real reason for having come-but sufficient unto the evening was the worry thereof. He walked slowly

is very full of hills and after a short while Vane returned to his hotel and sat down in the smoking-room. It was unoccupied save for one man who appeared to be of the genus co

r?" the man opposite him s

Vane shortly. He was in

her; "but having all these German

ot prisoners here?" The excuse he had

busy trying to think under what possible pretext he could have been sent down to deal with Boche prisoners. And being a man of discernment

ear boy?" he cried, striding across the room

ounded conscientious prisoners-Boche objectors-you know the blighters. Question of s

and steered rapidly for safer ground. "I was think

'll come back with me now-this minute. Merciful thing I happened to drop in. Got the

ping that he was disguising any un

Melton?" demanded Mr. Sutton. "I can

rs ahead, and decided that he coul

e's arm, rushed him out of the smoking-room, leaving the commercial traveller pondering deep

said Mr. Sutton, as the chauffeur piled the

," answered

y, is the devil these days. Don't touch it; don't have anything to do with it. You'll burn your fingers if you do. . . . Of course, Blandford is a beautiful place, and all that, but, 'pon my soul, I'm not certain that he wouldn't have been wiser to sell it. Not certain we all

to be married?" asked Vane as

ny big function. Besides, he has to run over to France so often, and so unexpectedly, that it might

fall of dead leaves came fluttering down as they passed underneath. Then, all too quickly for Vane, they were at the house, and the chauffeur was holding

king off his coat. He felt rather like a boy who had been looking forward intensely

ew open a door. "Mary, my dear, who do you think I found

nd then sank back again, while a wave of colour flooded her cheeks, and then receded, leaving them deathly wh

nd me propping up the hotel smoking-room, and r

ul, Captain Vane. I'm so glad you could come.

I have that pleasure," he said in a low voice. "I believe I have

sp, and barely caught h

have yo

"Why, just to congratulate you, dear lady . . . just to congratulate you." Hi

to talk, and the conv

aid in answer to her question. "And so we've formed a sort of board to inves

said the old lady. "Have

I only got my orders last night. . . ." With the faintest fl

baffling. "And have you any special qualification, Cap

t was very simple. Just a matter of common sense, and making

them get your sen

e can be only one,"

dn't you?-these German prisoners may think it their duty to di

ane. "It would then be up to me to m

fail?" ask

lowly. "But if I do-the trouble of which I spo

sick when I hear of the way our boys are treated by the brutes. A damn

d state of civilisation public opinion is against flogging. It prefers violence against the person to be done mentally rather

man who regards anything as permanent these days. I should have

ttle things may change-the froth on the top of the pool, which everyone see

big fundamental thi

no disagreement even though they are my own views. Love and the pleasure of congenial work, and h

t time to dress, isn't it?" She went out of the room and Mr. Sutton advanced on Vane, with his hand upraised, like the

ned. "Baxter-the man she's going to marry-is a perfect martyr to indigestion. It is the one thorn in the rose. A most suitable match in every

ays a catch somewhere, isn't there, Mr. Sutton? . . . . I'm afraid I shal

he foot of the stairs his hands clenched behind his back, and he set his teeth. In her simple black evening frock she was lovely to the point of making any man's senses swim dizzily. And when th

away the resolve she had made in her room to treat him coldly. In a flash of clear self-analysis just as she reached him, she recognised the futility of any such resolve. It was with that recognition of her weakness tha

ry low. "It wasn't playing the g

en he laughed. "Are you really going to talk to m

rds the blazing logs. "You know how utterly weak it ma

there any man who is a man who w

e." Her voice began to quiver. "You're playing with sex . . . . sex . . . . sex, and

it," Vane gripped her arm. "I

t on the other side of the balance lie the happiness of

r own happiness?

it's a purely business arrangement. Henry is very nice and kind, and all

There is only one point which I would like to put to you. Has it occurred to you that in the business arrangement which you have outlined so delightfully,

e saw her bite her lip with a sudden little gasp, he saw t

that that will be part of the programme. It

't do. If I believed that what you say really expressed what you think, don't you know that I'd leave the

d defiantly; "that i

es, I said," inter

little half-strangled gasp she turned away. . . . "You bru

stairs to join them, Vane laughe

distracted his attention from the only real thing in the room-the girl sitting opposite him. And yet he flattered himself that neither hi

s. He even went so far as to picture the butler's expression when he did it. Unfortunately, that was just when Mrs. Sutton had concluded a harrowing story of a dead soldier who had left a bedridden wife with thirteen chi

d into one; it was the only thing in this world that matters. But all the time he was very careful not to give away the great secret. Just once or twice their eyes met, and whenever that happened he made some remark more inordinately witty than usual-or more inordinately foolish. And the girl opposite helped him, and laughed with him, while over the big mahogany table there came leaping her real message-"My dear, I'm yours. . . ." It whispered through the flowers in the big

ng problems, and the futility of fixing such a price on meat that it paid farmers to put their calves to the cow, instead of selling the milk. After all, the words had been spoken before, and words are of little account. There are times-not often, for artificiality an

one jot when the time comes to foot the bill. By that time the madness has passed, like a dream in the night; and cold sanity is the judge before which a man must stand or fall. A few, maybe, there are who cheat the reckoni

ly knitting and the old gentleman was openly and unashamedly asleep. The girl had a small voice, but very sweet and pure; and, after a while Vane rose

comes, his wi

full of qui

r those who

even as he

ging to herself rather than to him. It was as the last note of the refrain trembled and died away that Mr. Sutton awoke with a

favourite tune." The number of the old gentleman's favo

o Vane. "Pool or billiards, and let's see i

ane professed himself

me and score for

Mrs. Sutton. "And

t, and that he laughed quite a lot over silly little jokes. Every now and then he stood beside Joan at the scoring board, and touched her arm or her hand; and once, w

alone with Joan, just to kiss her, and take her in his arms. But the old man showed no signs of doing anything of the sort. He did not often get a game of billiards; he still less often beat anybody, and he fully inte

d early to rise, a proverb which Vane had always considered the most detestable in the English

he required a little justification, "off you go to bed. Can't have you missing your bea

e not all they might have been. In fact, he registered a mental vow that if ev

eside him, holding out her hand. "I don't think

ost's. And as he turned he laughed softly under his breath. For Joan had not even looked at him as she

fire. He was feeling more or less dazed, like a man who has been thr

s when he had been far more physically close to her than he had been that evening. Save for that one brief kiss in the

t goes along. And the one thought which stood out from the jumbled chaos in his brain was a fierce

on pass along the passage and go to his own room; and then gradually the house grew still. Outside the night was silent, and once he rose and went to the window. He stood there for a tim

it; and in all probability they would give him an extens

y Atlantic, and the salt tang of it makes it good to be alive. And then one afternoon when they got home Joan would find a telegram awaiting

me-three days. . . . For Vane had passed beyond the thinking stage; he was incapable of arguing things out or calling a halt even

heat 'em yet," he muttered, "some old how." And even as he spoke he stiffened

eded in the grate. Every drop of blood in his body seemed to stand still, and then to pound madly on again, as the

hispered, "m

e opening at her neck. Without a word she passed by him into the room, and crouched ove

e faintly through the roaring in his ea

fire, and stood beside her, while his nails cut into th

t hung over her shoulders round and round his fingers. He touched her forehead and her cheeks with hands that shook a little, and suddenly he kissed her fiercely on th

ou're cold . . . so cold. . .

nd the man, being just a man, felt his sen

im away, and with her hands on th

e sure that it was not a dream, and with the touch of his fingers something seemed to snap. A great wave of colour flooded her face, spreading down to her neck, and she began to shake uncontrollably. He be

is mind died down, and gave place to a wonderful peace. All that was best in his nature was called forth by the girl

se of protection-man's divine heritag

id her on his bed. He pulled the clothes around her, and

e listened to the hall clock striking the hours, grad

represented the way out for Joan. As a rival-man to man-he failed to count; he might just as well have

rise that here he himself was actually up against one of Ramage's vested interests.

d then with the touch of a woman he bent over the sleeping girl, and wiped away two

ought. Right or wrong, she was doing what she believed to be her job

made up the fire again, and then started to pace slowly up and down t

clearly as if she had told him he understood the wild seething thoughts in her mind, the chaos, the sense of futility. And then the sudden

e. . . . He stopped in his slow walk, and stared at the sleeping girl

took a deep breath. That was the weapon he was using against her; he made no attempt to deceive himself on that score. After all-why not? It was the weapon

g restlessly behind his back. Supposing she was right, supposing in a year, or in five, she should turn on him, and say: "Against my bette

ey loved one another; and love is the biggest thing in the universe. But was it only love in his case-was it not overmastering passion as well? Well-what if it was; there are cases where th

side, which is the reason why England has spread to the ends of the earth, and remained there at the express wish of the Little Peoples. Bias or favouritism are abhorrent to him; as far as in hi

m revolted at the idea of taking advantage of an emotional crisis such as h

himself over and over again. "Only her. . . .

would it? That was the crux. Was he justified in letting her make this sacrifice? As clearly as i

at it held in store for him. But over there a man is a fatalist-his part is allotted to him, and he can but tread the beaten path blindly. Whereas here, however much one is the sport of the gods that play, there comes a time when one must play oneself

irl. He picked her up in his arms, and having si

when he placed her in her own cold bed. Her eyes opene

whispered. "Dear

With a tired sigh she had

PTE

vents of the last night flashed over her mind, and for a while she lay very still. The details seemed all

carried in his arms, of his bending over her and whispering "Little Jo

the love-light shone in her grey e

hat there was a new and wonderful secret to share with him. And to the girl, still under the influence of her mood of the night before, t

ing matter? She had gone to Dere

e room, and advanced

" she said. "And ze tea, mon

it, Celeste?

out an envelope to Joan, and busied herself about the room. "Ah! but he is gentil-M'sieur le Capitai

my breakfa

opening the envelope. There was just a line inside,

hich has got to be said in the big spaces. Will y

f a dozen times and the

hat I will be ready

*

faintly tremulous smile was on her lips, but she c

gently. "Would you to be liking

she whisper

grin. "I am dealing with Boche prisoners. . . . At least that's

e happy laugh. "

nd we're going to tell the car to run away a

y shop

find anythin

ur pris

give the show away is if I turn up at the prison," smile

ght quickening of her breath, the faint colour dyeing her cheeks, and suddenly the resolution he had made seemed singularly futile. Then with a big effort he took hold of

, while Vane strolled to the front door. The car was just

s day, i

te it, sir, over them p

walk back over the Downs. . . . Splendid day for a walk. . . ." He turned and found

me in the High Street, will you-opposite to the Post Off

e most men you're rather prone to overact." With a little, happy la

mas," said Joan as she got out of the ca

d they stood watching

en she tur

t go over the Castle. There is a most wonderful collection of oleographic p

shall kiss you. And I don't know th

," she gurgled, falling into step

to the races here," he answered. "One passes

th you. Only I want to get out into the open, with the fresh wind blowing on my face-and I want

y're rather particular. I'm not certain that happiness isn't an offence under the Defence of

ced him. "That's not allowed, D

e answered gravely, and for a w

ces more dirt than seemed humanly possible, and nothing would

very soft. "What a life to look forward

y paw, and smiled down at the awestruck faces. "Go and spend it all on sweets," he

the Downs. On their left the grim, frowning prison stood sombre and

r a moment?" She shook herself as if to cast off the mood, and stretched out her arms to the open hi

nd the wind from the sea swept through the gorse and

"Let's go and sit under it. And in defiance of all l

f it, and Vane threw down his coa

e drew her into his arms and kissed her. Then he made h

rdered. "There's plenty

aist, and his cheek touching her

poke. "Grey girl-I'm

ed the words and stare

ut . . . I t

one thought in my mind-and that was to make you give up Baxter. I wanted it

now?" Her voice

it that idea did not come at first. You see I'm only a man; and you're a lovely girl. . . ." He laughed a little shortly. "I'd made up my mind to drift these next two or three days, and then when you came it seemed to be a direct answer to the problem. I didn't realise just to begin with that you weren't quite capable of thinking things out for yourself. . . . I didn't care, either

ighting-- And last night it all seemed so clear." With her breast rising and fall

d-last night,

arms, and kissed, and beaten if necessary. . . . I don't know what was the matter with me last night; I only know that I was lying in bed feeling all dazed and bruised-and then suddenly I

such an idea, you'd laugh too. . . ." Then he grew serious again, and stabbed at the ground with the point of his stick. "Do you suppose, dear, that I wouldn't soone

an?" Her face w

room. As I think I said before, I'm just a man, and you're a lovely girl-and I adore you. B

im. "And supposing I w

nd striding away. He stood with his back towards her, while a large variet

cold light of day, where there's no question of her being overwrought, sh

for a moment and gave no heed to the ninety-nine. Then he turned over two or three pages to

nd on his arm, and looking d

said. "I'm frightened of being left to

of deciding for you? If one decides wrong for oneself-well, it's one's

her person begs

man to go and make sure. . . . I guess she was frightened of staking everything on a sudden rush of sex. She was right." He turned to her and caught both her hands in his with a groan. "O

, Joan. . . . Last night. . . . It's another factor in the situation, and I don't quite know how powerful it will prove. It's too near, just at

et last night into its proper place, grey girl," he went on after a while. "And only you can do it. .

im, she put both her hands on his shoulders. "Take me away, Derek-take me away with you now. Let's go and get married-just you and I and Bi

re would the difference be? I guess it's not a question

pose you're doing what you think is right, dear," she said at l

s time." Then suddenly he caught both her hands in his. "My dear, my dear!" he

'm frightened of time; I don't want to think. . . . Oh! boy,

He bent down to pick up his coat, and the god in charge sent a casual glance in their direction, to see that matters

nd turned his attention to a struggling curate w

be it was wisdom, maybe it was folly, but the point is immate

e Post Office that morning: and the girl waved her handkerchie

, and listened to his words of passionate love with a grave little smile. "Only a fortnight, my darling," he had told her. "But we

upstairs, and not till long after he had gone did she pick up the envelop

r beloved Blandford-he always associated Joan with himself in the possession of it; scheming how she was to come and stay with him for long visits each year after she was married. It w

or an hour she lay there motionless, while the shadows danced merrily around her, and darkness came down outside. Just every now and then a little pitiful moan came from her lips, muffled and inarticulate from the depths of the pillow;

the torments of Hell have got them on the rack. Then with firm steps she went downstairs to the drawing-room, and found it empty. Without f

comes, his wi

full of qui

r those who

even as he

n. For the last note had barely died away, throbbing into silence, when Joan took the score in her hands and tore it across. She tore the pages again, and then she carried the

clear, ringing laugh. "One I shall ne

for a moment, and wondered

TER

djutant as Vane reported

be true? Giving

eated himself on th

hings, Horatio,'"

at hoary motto," groaned the

. "Can this thing be t

ll. . . . Why one damn fellow who's helping in the cook-house-peeling potatoes-says it gives him pains in the stummick

this job?" p

ike," he said; "but you might find it a good trip. It's a draft for the six

or a moment an

I rather want something t

rrow. Come round about ten,

t was only the day before that he had left her, the temptation to go back to Joan-or at any rate write to her-was growing in strength. Already

shrugged his should

extraordinary feat of two of the men who had managed to become incapably drunk on Government beer; and Vane having spent a night in Dublin, and i

ritten in the Bo

The smoking-room was occupied by a party of six young Irishmen, all of them of military age, who announced freely for the benefit of anyone who cared to listen-and it was not easy to avoid doing so-that they were Sinn Feiners. For a while Vane studied them, more to distract his own thoughts than for any interest in their opinions. It struck him that they were the exact counterpart of the new clique of humanity which has sprung up recently on this side of the Irish Sea; advanced thinkers without thought-the products of a litt

he wanted to purge himself of the rotten atmosphere he had just left. Then with slow, measured steps he began to pace up and down the deck. The majority of the passengers were si

feel her now as she had lain in his arms; he could still smell the soft fragrance of her hair. The wind was singing through

om bell showed that the officer on the bridge had seen it too. Simultaneously everyone seemed to become aware that something was wrong-and for a brief second almost a panic occurred. The ship was swinging to port, but Vane realised that it was hopeless: the torpedo must

ought, compared with a shell. But it seemed so infinitely more powerful and destructive; like the upheaval of some great monster, slow and almo

ich floated an indescribable litter of small objects and bits of wood. The torpedo had hit her forward, but with the headway she still had the vessel drifted on, and the l

ob in perfect silence, and amongst the passengers a sort of stunned apathy prevailed. T

he would have expected to wring his hands and wail-take off his boots w

ame past him demanding to see the Captain, and p

o Vane; "absolutely preposterous. I

help," answered Vane rudely. "It's n

is to guess beforehand how danger will affect different men. A woman beside him was crying quiet

ger, sir?" She turned to Vane

"There should be enough boats to go ro

ce beside him cursing it bitterly and childishly. He turned, to find one of the smoking-room patriots shaking his fist at it, while the weak tears

are times when one is nauseated and sickened by the revolting cant of a repentant Germany; by the hypocritical humbug that, at heart, the German is a peace-loving, gentle being who has been led aw

rpedo could have but one purpose-the wanton destruction of so many more helpless women. Besides,

and silent. . . . The cold grew more intense, till it seemed to eat into him, and his head grew curiously light. Almost as if it was bursting with some unaccustomed pressure. Then, just as it seemed as if it was the end, and that his skull would literally fly to pieces, relief came with a great rush, and Vane found himself gasping and blowing on th

he had got where he was. People were still struggling and scrambling over her slanting

shed downwards stern first, shooting its load into the water, and the same voice croaked, "I told

-submerged chair. Then he felt that he was moving, and opening his eyes he realised that the ship had disappeared. Very soon the suction stopped, and he found himself alone on the grey, sullen water. In the distance, bobbing up and down on the short swell, he could see half a dozen boats; but close at hand there was nothing save the flotsam and

of gulls, that fought over the prize that had come to them. Then with a great effort he pulled himself together. He must keep his head and save his strength-he mu

st swim steadily and quietly to keep up his circulation-always keeping near the gulls. He argued it out carefully in his mind, unconsciously talking aloud, and when he had decided what he was going to do he nodded his head in complete agreement. And then he laughed-a strange, croak

gled hen, most certainly, very bedraggled. Not at all the sort of hen that should be dis

in mass of wreckage, and pushing the chair in front of him. Several times they bumped into things, and once Vane found himself looking through the bars of the back of the chair at something which rolled and sogged in the water. And then it half turned, and he saw it was a woman. Some of her hai

lying there in the water so close to him. She was perfectly happy . . . while he was numb and exhausted. Why not just lie on the water and go to sleep? . .

Baxter, damn him, he would be happy; and the whole blessed outfit wou

ok, while she took the pennies at the door-or did he have to take the pennies? Anyway, this settled the matter, an

torpedoes. And it served men right for inventing them; they should have been more careful. The smile on the dead Ge

"The man I want to meet is the fool

with his shattered skull, holding out a hand of greeting-and Baxter, grinning sardonically. Margaret-with a wealth of pity and love shining on her face, and Joan with her grey eyes faintly mocking . . . . And his tai

oon the agony he was suffering became almost unbearable. In God's name, why could not they leave him alone? . . . He raved at them, and sobbed, but it was of no avai

TER

y very still, groping back into a half-world of grey shadows. He remembered the first torpedo, and then

r?" he remarke

," said Vane, "I'm feeling perfectly we

man. "You were very nearly drowned in the 'Connaught,' and you've

ing himself on his elbow. "I

three or four days

ker. "What did you say?

our days ago that the submarin

ow long I've

But I wired to your depot that you

take it from me that I don't. . . . Ten days . . . twelve-f

for you," said the doctor.

e. "When is the ne

e as far as you're conce

, and Vane lay very sti

en day

and handed him abo

he remarked. "I'm going to send you

unted. He looked at the postmarks to get them in the right sequence, and eagerly pull

ee them through his own eyes. He reasons, and becomes logical, . . . and perhaps he's right. But a woman doesn't want reasons or logic-not if she's in love. She wants to be whirled up breathlessly a

l, and put it on the table by his b

my clothe

d with a smile. "I'm coming back shortly to tidy you up

heet of paper, and then he saw that there were a few words in the centre of the page. F

or those who

even as he

-you fool! Wh

ng while he lay and stared

g in great red letters on the pale green diste

he raved. "It's

to the man in bed it was merely a ray from a watery sun

wasn't my fault. . . . I never asked to be torpedoed. I only did wha

m reproachfully. "The bovril is quite cold," she sa

thing for me. No-take away that awful basin and sponge. . . . I don't mind if I am dirty. . . . You've got to

?" she aske

humans," he answered. "For Heaven's sake! my dear wo

ed in her best bedside manner. . . . "That's quite all right. Just a nice wash, and then we'll go to sleep," there is but little doubt that a c

, Doctor?" he said. "And, Nurse,

he door closed behind her

other, but Vane silenced h

"But it's got to be done. You see, I'm having a bit of a tussle with . . ." he paused for a moment as if at a loss for a word, and t

ravely for a few mome

get up yet," he

l let me,"

replied the other briefly. "And the

, he stared out of the window at the landscape flashing past. They were passing through the Black Country, and it seemed to him to be in keeping with his thoughts-dour

ins we were born, and now you shall serve us ever

all not escape. What is to be-is to be; and your puny ef

ill he had left Joan; he

d?" he demanded aloud. "What wou

e Might-have-been; only silence and imagin

e in his life he took no notice of Binks, and that worthy, knowing that something was wr

e to tea was round here

Green, when she had s

. "And what did she

d rung up the depot, and the man who a

" said Van

s in her arms-and she seemed just miserable. 'Oh! can't you tell me where he is, Mrs. Green?' she said. 'I can't, my dear,' said I, 'for I don't kno

"She was right, Mrs. Green. I had the game in my hands, and I chucked it away." He rose a

id; and if you came in,

at length, and took up the telephone book

g was very wrong; but the consolation of sitting in a basket and waiting for the clouds to rol

n's?" Vane took the te

speaking? I'm Captai

h you? Just left yest

to see her. Going

night. Thank you. But

resent.

uck him, and he pulled the letters he had received that morning out of his pocket. He extract

inwarings' dance afterwards. .

table in front of him,

rked to Binks, "alm

assented, with a series of

s round the room as she greeted Vane that evening. "She has a mission . . . or two. Keeps soldiers from drinki

fallen on my feet. She isn't that

there she is-the wizened up one in black. . . . And she's goi

o to reply politely to her ceaseless "We are doing this, and we decided that." To her the war had given an opportunity for self-expression which she had hitherto been denied. Dreadful as she undoubtedly though

benefit of the men he had led. But to this woman it was not the men that count

d Persians. And who was this wretched woman, to lay do

it. People were beginning to complain; and

is reverie and realised he had n

rmured. "Have a

ued inexorably. "The men are exposed to so many temptat

re before?" he remarked wearily. "Why not let 'em

th a sigh of relief Vane sat down

tten, Derek," he said, lo

a mission," he answered. "And I wa

eenly. "And the two combin

immy? Why, in Heaven's name, does anybody ever do anything but drift? Look at that damned foolishness over the water. . . . The most titanic struggle of the world. And look at the

such as we had the other day, with witnesses and judge screaming at each other, and dignity trampled in the mud. Every soul in England read the case-generally twice-before anything else. You could see 'em all

unashamed, in order of seniority. And no one was allowed to rea

ervy, and sensationalism helps. It takes one

matter whether it's advisable-it's mud. And it sticks alike to the just and the unjus

u fellows. The Cuthberts will advance from their funk-hol

Jimmy." The lawyer was strolling beside him. "It'

oked at him in si

ut don't let go. I'm no sky pilot, but I guess that somewhere up topsides there's a Big C

"It's likely to be wh

om leading off the principal one where dancing seemed to be in progress also. He walked towards it, and as he came to the door he sto

er partner and danced alone, while Vane leaned against the door with his jaw set in a straight, hard line. Once his eyes travelled round the faces of the men who w

he began to circle the room close to the guests who lined the walls. There were two men in front of Vane, and as she came near the door he pushed forward a little so that he came in full view. For the moment he

ly for an encore, but she ros

e you been

grimly. "I went down in the 'Connaught.' . . . May

nstinctively he put out his arm to hold her. Then the colour

. No, no, my dear people, no more," as a thro

ane forward and obediently h

a glass," she said, sitting down

what she desired; then h

he said quietly. "I h

y letters?" sh

d a fool for nothing, my lady-so I got up and came to look for you

n she began to laugh. "The ceremony in church take

ll let that pass. May I ask if your entertainment to-ni

as an ugly sound in it. A woman at the

ow, insistent voice. "For God's s

easeless twisting of her handkerchi

to keep steady. "The Mainwarings might think it was their champagne-or the early symptoms of 'flu

t speak for a bit. I'll get you a

where where we can talk." She laid the tips of her finger

," he muttered betwe

ence he found two chairs in a

'Connaught,' did you?"

Hence my

swered my first letter

id at length. "I wanted you to decide. . . . But," grimly, "

d come up from Blandford," she remar

u must have known something had happened." He took one o

d I was tired . . . my God! but I was tired." She swayed towards him, and in he

rrow. . . ." She put her hand over his mouth with a little half-st

is whole soul went out of hi

if you'll understand. I wonder still more if you'll forgive. Since yo

himself gr

r rather they settled me for themselves. I tried to mak

driving at?" h

n about a week; I married him in a regi

IL

eir slopes. Down in London a world had gone mad-but the mist took no heed of such foolishness. Lines of men and women, linked arm-in-arm, were promenading Piccadilly to celebrate the End of the Madnes

the open sea; until the end it would continue. . . . It was part of the Law

re the bogland showed a darker tint, and at his feet, cupped out in the smooth greystone, lay a sheet of water. It was

of Ross-shire it seemed to the man who watched with brooding eyes that it was as the bl

sture from his face, while a terrier

ist and rolled it away. One by one the rugged lines of hills came int

up. Away still further the browns grew darker, more rich-the violets became a wond

er in the sunlight. And then, to crown it all, the smooth snow slopes in th

come to a L

ar out of his pocket and commenced to fill it; and soon the blue smoke was curling lazily upwards into the still air.

ughed; then almost unconsciously he st

wo grouse rose near by and shot like brown streaks over the

himself up, of a sudden it seemed to the man that the mountains and the moors, the tarn and

y cried in a mighty chorus. "Soone

e sun, sinking lower and lower, bathed th

rs, Binks, old man, so com

adly through the heather aroun