"Of course I am glad to hear that he is so successful--and so happy," she replied, and her mouth took on a hardness strange and new to it. She remembered the passionate appeal in her own letter--the cry of love that had awakened no answering cry--and her pride and anger set to work to tear the dreams from her heart. But a dream built by the Master Workman, of stuffs lighter than the wind, outlasts the heavy walls of kings' monuments. CHAPTER VIII. HEMMING UNDERTAKES A DIGNIFIED WORK Hemming went through the Turko-Grecian campaign from beginning to end, with much credit to himself and profit to the syndicate. He worked hard, and, on occasions, risked life and limb. No word of legitimate news of actions got out of the country ahead of his. When the fighting was over, he wrote a careful article on the uselessness of the sword in modern battles. He described the few occasions in which he had seen a blooded sword in action. He damned them all--the pointed blade of the infantry officer, and the cutting sabre of the cavalry trooper. They would do for hill raids, or charges against savages, but before the steady fire of men on foot, armed with rifles of the latest pattern, they were hopeless. Their day had passed with the passing of the ramrod, he said. After heading it "Cold Steel in Modern Warfare," he decided that it would be a pity to waste it on the New York News Syndicate; for of late he had become dissatisfied with his arrangements with the syndicate. He had found that, out of the dozen or more war-correspondents whom he had met during the campaign, only two were allowed so small a sum as he for expenses, and not one was paid so small a salary. So he mailed his wise story to a big London weekly, and wrote to Dodder for a raise in his salary and expenses. At this time he was living quietly in Athens, with a number of friends,--merry fellows, all,--but he missed O'Rourke's whimsical conversations and kindly comradeship. The big London weekly published Hemming's article, and commented upon it editorially. It also sent him a modest check--more modest than its size and reputation would lead one to suppose. Mr. Dodder's letter arrived at about the same time. The manager of the syndicate was firm, though gentle. He pointed out that already Hemming drew more money than any other correspondent connected with the concern. He explained that, even now, Mr. Wells frequently grumbled. "And after all," he concluded, "you are a new man, and we are helping you to a reputation." "We'll see about that," said Hemming, and wrote to say that he would like to take a holiday until more fighting turned up. He sent them his address for the next six months--Maidmill-on-Dee, Cheshire, England. Then he sold his horse, packed his things, and sailed for England.