The girl gave a short laugh. “Afraid I wasn’t thinking much about that,” she said. Suddenly, she sat up with a stifled cry. It seemed as if a flash of light had been turned upon her, almost blinding her.!

A message came for Mary about ten o’clock, brought by a scared little girl, who whispered it to her at the door. Mary apologized. She had to go out. The party broke up. Mary disappeared into the next room and returned in a shawl and bonnet, carrying a small brown paper parcel. Joan walked with her as far as the King’s Road. Joan seated herself on one of the chairs ranged round the walls, and drew the girl down beside her. Through the closed door, the mingled voices of the Foreign Secretary’s guests sounded curiously like the buzzing of flies.

“I took one or two prizes myself,” said Mrs. Phillips. “But, of course, one forgets things. I was wondering if you would mind if I ran up occasionally to ask you a question. Of course, as you know, my ’usband ’as ’ad so few advantages”—the lady’s mind was concerned with more important matters, and the aspirates, on this occasion, got themselves neglected—“It is wonderful what he ’as done without them. But if, now and then, I could ’elp him—” She told Joan what she remembered herself of 1870. She had turned her country house into a hospital and had seen a good deal of the fighting. Mr. Halliday, who had been supporting the weight of his body upon his right leg, transferred the burden to his left.