"I may or may not be," answered Dora, always ready to complicate the issue, "But Edwin's not looked so well lately, and after all I'm his mother, and I ought to know whether or not he's ready for a boarding school." "I know he isn't looking too well; that's another reason why I'm keen for him to start next term. He'll be better out of town." "You mean he'll be better away from me?" asked Dora on that rising note which preceded a hysterical outburst. "I mean nothing of the sort. I mean precisely what I say; that he'll be better out of town, and I've decided once and for all that he is to go at the end of these holidays." "So I'm to have no say in it; I'm only his mother to be pushed aside and ignored." "I'm extremely sorry you take it like this, Dora, but I'm not open to changing my mind this time," answered Edwin, and left the house for Chambers before the storm of tears, which was the conclusion of all arguments, burst over the household. The subject was not, however, finally disposed of till the evening in August when Edwin, who had felt it impossible to leave London at the outbreak of war, came home and said rather abruptly: "I'm afraid you won't approve of what I've done, Dora, but I felt I really couldn't keep out of things so I applied for a commission a few days ago, and have got it all right." To his surprise, Dora answered quietly: "Oh, Edwin, that's splendid," and then fell silent. He eyed her distrustfully. He could have understood a manifestation of emotional patriotism that would have culminated in a fit of sobbing on his breast, or a paroxysm of sentiment and pride, but what he really expected was an impassioned reproach for his cruelty and selfishness in being willing to abandon her. This quietness and restraint was the one attitude he had not dared to hope for. Dora was obviously making a determined effort at self-control. She stood in front of him, twisting her hands a little, but showing no signs of hysteria. "I'm glad about it," she said at last, "I think it will be good for us to have a big break like this. You know, Edwin, things haven't gone quite as I meant. I know I've never really pleased you and yet I meant to try so hard when I married you. But I think perhaps after this it will be different." Edwin looked at her curiously. "It's been my fault," she continued simply, "so it's I who must change myself and in the meantime I'll do all I can to help instead of hindering." "You've helped me enormously by the way you've taken this," said Edwin warmly. "I was afraid you'd be very upset. You see, dear----" he hesitated and then plunged, "I'm afraid it means I must be off to a training camp the day after to-morrow." Dora's newly discovered composure appeared unshakable. "We'll have a good deal to do getting you ready," she said, "but don't worry, we'll manage all right."