Yes, Avery had seen it too. She still felt as if the earth were very far below them both. Jeanie's voice had grown husky, but she still spoke in a tremulous whisper. "Did you see the Open Gates, dear Avery? He says they are never shut. And anyone who can reach them will be let in,--it doesn't matter who. Do you know, I think Piers is different from what he used to be? I think he is learning to love God." Absolutely simple words! Why did they send such a rush of feeling--tumultuous, indescribable feeling--through Avery? Was this the explanation? Was this how it came to pass that he treated her with that aloof reverence day by day? Was he indeed learning the supreme lesson to worship God with love? She sat for a while longer with Jeanie, till, finding her drowsy, she slipped downstairs. Piers was sitting in the hall, deep in a newspaper. He rose at her coming with an abruptness suggestive of surprise, and stood waiting for her to speak. But curiously the only words that she could utter were of a trivial nature. She had come to him indeed, drawn by a power irresistible, but the moment she found herself actually in his presence she felt tongue-tied, helpless. "Don't you want a light?" she said nervously. "I am sure you can't see to read." He stood silent for a moment, and the old tormenting doubt began to rise within her. Would he think she desired to make an overture? Would he take for granted that because his magnetism had drawn her he could do with her as he would? And then very quietly he spoke, and she experienced an odd revulsion of feeling that was almost disappointment. "Have you been reading the papers lately?" She had not. Jeanie occupied all her waking thoughts. He glanced down at the sheet he held. "There is going to be a bust-up on the Continent," he said, and there was that in his tone--a grim elation--which puzzled her at the moment. "The mightiest bust-up the world has ever known. We're in for it, Avery; in for the very deuce of a row." His voice vibrated suddenly. He stopped as though to check some headlong force that threatened to carry him away. Avery stood still, feeling a sick horror of impending disaster at her heart. "What can you mean?" she said. He leaned his hands upon the table facing her, and she saw in his eyes the primitive, savage joy of battle. "I mean war," he said. "Oh, it's horrible; yes, of course it's horrible. But it'll bring us to our senses. It'll make men of us yet." She shrank from his look. "Piers! Not--not a European war!" He straightened himself slowly. "Yes," he said. "It will be that. But there's nothing to be scared about. It'll be the salvation of the Empire." "Piers!" she gasped again through white lips. "But modern warfare! Modern weapons! It's Germany of course?"