"No, dear. That would not be fair to you. I want you to understand; I want to know that you will--will keep Mother company. That is all, until I come home. I could not feel justified in asking a woman to marry such a--such a chance as I am about to be." Now there was cause for what Kathryn suddenly felt, but not the cause she suspected. Had Northrup loved deeply, faithfully, understandingly, he might, as others did, see that to the right woman the "chance," as he termed himself, would become her greatest glory and hope, but as it was Northrup considered only Kathryn's best good and, gropingly, he realized that her interests and his were not, at the present, identical. But Kathryn, her ever-present jealousy and apprehension rising, was carried from her moorings. She recalled the evidences of "duty" in Northrup's attitude toward her since his return from King's Forest; his abstraction and periods of low spirits. "He cannot stand it any longer," she thought resentfully; "he's willing to do anything, take any chance." A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not speak. "Kathryn"--Northrup grew restive at her silence--"haven't you anything to say to me? Something I can remember--over there? I'd like to think of you as I see you now, little, pretty, and loving. The blue gown, the jolly fire, this fine old room--I reckon there will be times when my thoughts will cling to the old places and my own people rather fiercely." "What can I say, Brace? You never see _my_ position. Men are selfish always, even about their horrible fights. What do they care about their women, when the call of blood comes? Oh! I hate it all, I hate it! Everything upset--men coming back, heaven only knows how! even if they come at all--but we women must let them go and _smile_ so as to send them off unworried. We must stay home and be _nothings_ until the end and then take what's left--joyfully, gratefully--oh! I hate it all." Northrup got up and stood again with his back to the fire. He loomed rather large and dark before Kathryn's angry eyes. She feared he was going to say the sentimental regulation thing, but he did not. Sorrowfully he said: "What you say, dear, is terribly true. It isn't fair nor decent and there are times when I feel only shame because, after all these centuries, we have thought out no better way; but, Kathryn, women are taking part in this trouble--perhaps _you_----" "You mean that _I_ may go over into that shambles--if I want to?" With this Kathryn sprang to her feet. "Well, thanks! I do not want to. I'm not the kind of girl who takes her dissipation that way. If I ever let go, I'll take my medicine and not expect to be shielded by this sentimentality." "Kathryn, how can you? My dear, my dear! Say what you want to about my folly--men's mistakes--but do not speak so of your--sisters!" "Sisters?" Kathryn laughed her mirthless but musical laugh. "You _are_ funny, Brace!"