"I can't sell her, of course, nor give her away--it would be like selling or giving away Ellen Neal! But if you'll just ride her, Emily, and play with her sometimes? She's used to a good deal of attention." "I'll probably spoil her to death," promised Emily, deeply touched by this first sign of sentiment she had seen in her friend during that tragic time. Joan moved about her pretty house, cleaning, packing, getting things in order for the tenant, as calmly as if she were not leaving it forever. Even in the nursery she was perfectly composed, until she came upon the toys Ellen had hidden there. Then she locked the door for awhile, and neither Emily nor Ellen dared go to her. "But what are we going to do ourselves?" moaned Ellen, rocking helplessly to and fro in her kitchen. All her self-reliance had deserted her. She was suddenly an old woman. "I haven't decided yet, dear. One thing at a time," replied her mistress, steadily.... But in the end it was Archie who decided. He had acquiesced without comment in all Joan's arrangements. Only once had he protested. It was when she telegraphed Stefan Nikolai for the money. "Not that, Joan--not that, _please_!" he said, with a quick flush. "I'd rather go to the Pen than that--Really, the Pen will be quite a rest for me," he added, piteously. "Nonsense!" she replied; and he said no more. But for all his acquiescence, he did not seem to be numbed by the thing, as Joan was. Though she often heard him walking up and down his room at night, and suffered for him, at times he appeared almost happy. "I can't get over how _good_ people are!" he said once. "Think of Mr. Moore being willing to take me back! Not as manager, of course--the boys wouldn't be wanting to take orders from me yet awhile. Nor I couldn't expect to handle money. But he sent for me, and said I was the best salesman he'd ever had, and offered me the old job back on a commission basis! Pretty nice, what?" "Shall you take it?" she asked, curiously. She herself could not have faced disgrace with any such meekness. "Take it? Why, I jumped at the chance!" Joan flushed. "Archie," she said suddenly, "do you realize that there's a war going on over there in Europe! Do you realize that there is need in France for every able-bodied man that's got a life to spare?--Have you thought of that?" She was startled by the change in his face. The veins stood out on his forehead, and his hands clenched. "Have I thought of it? God, girl, what else do you suppose I've been thinking about the past year? I'd give the soul out of my body to slip away from this--this grab-bag, and get into a good clean fight--Those damned baby-killers! Gosh!--fight? Just give me a chance at that dachshund of a Kaiser with my two bare hands! But"--he made the little gesture that she realized was becoming characteristic of him--a gesture of renunciation--"I've got to stay here now. There isn't any money in soldiering."