“I hadn’t observed it. In fact, they’re fighting with wonderful courage and persistence. It’s not much of a compliment to our men to suggest otherwise, is it? We haven’t managed to shift ’em far yet.” “Ah, but you must not allow your own labours to distort your perspective. The Navy is the important arm in the War, that and the marvelous home organization, of which you, of course, can know nothing.” “Of course, but still....” Mr. Tubbe rose to move away: “Delighted to have seen you, my dear Winterbourne. And thank you for all your interesting news from the Front. _Most_ stimulating. _Most_ stimulating.” Winterbourne signed to his wife to go, but she ignored the signal, and went on talking earnestly and attentively with Reggie Burnside. He drank another glass of wine, and stretched his legs. His heavy hobnailed boots came in contact with the shins of the man opposite. “Sorry. Hope I didn’t hurt you. Sorry to be so clumsy.” “Oh, not at all, nothing, nothing,” said the man, rubbing his bruised shin with a look of furious anguish. Elizabeth frowned at Winterbourne, and leaned across to get the bottle. He grabbed it first, poured himself another glass, and then gave it to her. She looked angry at his rudeness. He felt pleasantly drunk, and cared not a damn for any one. Coming home in the taxi she reproved him with gentle dignity for drinking too much. “Remember, dear, you’re not with a lot of rough soldiers now. And, please forgive me for mentioning it, but your hands and fingers are terribly dirty—did you forget to wash them? And you were rather rude to everybody.” He was silent, staring listlessly out the taxi-cab window. She sighed, and slightly shrugged her shoulders. They did not sleep together that night. * * * * * Next morning at breakfast they were both pre-occupied and silent. Suddenly George emerged from his reverie: “I say, what’s happened to Fanny? She’s not out of town, is she?” “No, I don’t think so.” “Why wasn’t she at dinner with us last night?” “I didn’t ask her.” “You didn’t ask her! Why ever not?” Elizabeth looked annoyed at the question, but tried to pass it off lightly. “I don’t see much of her now—Fanny’s so popular, you know.” “But why don’t you see her?” Winterbourne pursued clumsily. “Is anything wrong?” “I don’t see her because I don’t choose to,” replied Elizabeth tartly and decisively.