quite impossible for the quarry-charges to be heard so far. 'But what could it be?' she asked, rousing. 'A gun perhaps. Sometimes ships come from the Bosphorus and fired shots in the Gulf. A long way off, of course. Perhaps a ship had come.' I told her what her father had said the night before, that a war might come soon. She nodded and was silent a moment before saying: 'I've heard that. Mrs. Sarafov said it might and she was sorry because nobody was ever any better off. They fight because the taxes are so heavy, and after the war the taxes are worse than ever, to pay for the war. She told me how the soldiers came home to Sofia after winning a war with the next country--I forget which--and there was a grand triumphal march through the streets, and then the soldiers discovered there was nothing for them to eat and they broke loose. Everybody locked themselves up in their houses while the shooting went on in the streets.' "'I believe,' I said, 'your father stands to make a lot of money out of this trouble when it comes.' "She turned quickly toward me but without taking her arms from the ledge of the balcony, pressing her adorable chin against her arm. "'I know this,' she said steadily, 'to-day has made it impossible to go back to my father. I don't mean for the reason that I mentioned this morning. Another reason.' And she sighed. "'What is that reason?' I asked gently. "'I'm a very unfortunate girl,' she muttered in a hoarse whisper, still looking steadily at me over her arm. 'I want to tell you so many things, and I can't, I can't.' "'But tell me the reason,' I persisted. "'Oh you must know ... I must get clear of the past--and the present. I must not tell you the things I know. Let me alone ... and perhaps in England I shall forget.' "And after that, of course, nothing could befall us save a silence, in which we endeavoured to adjust ourselves to the new emotion. For, mind you, I believe sometimes it would have worked out. She was a woman, and I believe that she would have conquered her destiny if she had gotten her chance.... No matter--a bald statement of belief gets us nowhere. So I shall remember her looking at me in her enchanting fashion over her arm, a light in her eyes like a light in the darkness at sea, flashing, and flashing and going out....