"Let us face the matter, dear! They are dear, good lads, and they are doing you the greatest honour in their power. There being two of them, of course"--and it came home to him that here were he and Gracie up against the problem of Carne also--"makes things very trying, both for them and for you. You like them both, I know----" "I've always liked them both, and I don't like either of them one bit better than the other." "Is there any one else you like as well as either of them?" "No, of course not. I've never cared for any one as I have for Jack and Jim--except you, of course. Oh! what am I to do, Charlie?" "As far as I can see, there is only one thing to be done at present, and that is--wait." "Can you make them wait? Oh, do! Some time, perhaps----" "If this war comes, they will have to go into it. They may neither of them come back." "Oh, Charlie! . . . That is too terrible to think of----" "War is terrible without a doubt, dear. It cuts the knot of many a life." "My poor boys! But how can I possibly tell them?" "I think, perhaps, you had better leave it all to me, dear. I will just explain to each of them quietly how this has taken you by surprise, and that you feel towards the one just as you do towards the other, and that, for the time being, they must let matters rest there." "Things will never be the same among us again." "Not quite the same, perhaps; but there is no reason why your friendship should suffer." "If they will see it that way----" "They will have to see it that way. They ought, by rights, to have spoken to me first. And if they had I could have saved you all this. I must scold them well for that." "The dear boys!" And presently, since he could imagine from their letters the state of the boys' feelings, and such were better got on to reasonable lines as soon as possible, he set off in the chill twilight for Carne. And Gracie sat looking into the fire, her mind ranging freely in these new pastures--troubled not a little at this sudden break in the brotherly-sisterly ties which had hitherto bound them, with quick mental side-glances now and then at the strange new possibilities, and not entirely without a touch of that exaltation with which every girl learns that to one man she is the whole end and aim of life. The trouble was that here were two men holding her in that supreme estimation, and that, so far, in her very heart of hearts, she found it impossible to say that she loved one better than the other. And at times the white brow knitted perplexedly at the absurdity of it, while the sweet, mobile mouth below twisted to keep from actual smiles as she thought of it all. But, naturally, the first result of the whole matter was that her mind dwelt incessantly and penetratingly on her boyfriends who had suddenly become her lovers, and she regarded them from quite new points of view. And she knew that she was right, and that they never could be all quite the same to one another as they had been hitherto.