clouds of powder over her neck and
shoulders. With a tired listlessness, Elise returned and sank into a
chair, from the back of which an underskirt was hanging disconsolately.

'You didn't do the breakfast-dishes, Marian.'

'Didn't I? Oh, well, they're not very dirty. Had a rotten day at the
garage?'

'It was rather long.'

'You're a chump for doing it. Working for your country's all very well,
but wait until after the war and see if the girl who's spoiled her hands
has a chance with the men. Why don't you wangle leave like I do? You
can pull old Huggin's leg any day in the week--and he likes it. All you
have to do is to lean on his shoulder and say you won't give up--you
simply _won't_. Aren't men a scream?'

'I suppose so,' said Elise after a pause. 'Who is your cavalier
to-night?'

'Horry.'

'Horace Maynard?'

'Absolutely. You know him, don't you, Elise?'

'Yes. He was visiting at our place in the country when war broke out.
When is he going back to France?'

'Monday.'

'He's been dancing pretty constant attendance, hasn't he?'

'Ra-_ther_. He says if I don't write him every day after he buzzes back,
he'll stick his head over the parapet and spoil a Hun bullet.'

'Those things come easily to Horace.'

'Oh, do they? I notice he doesn't go to you to say them.'

'No,' said Elise with a smile, 'that is so. Think of the thrills I miss.'

'Now don't get sarcastic. If Horry wants to make a fuss over me, that's
his business.'

'What about your husband at the front?'

'My husband and I understand each other perfectly,' said the girl,
glancing critically at the picture of two parted, carmined lips in the
mirror. 'He wouldn't want me to be lonely. He knows I have my boy
friends, and he's not such a fool as to be jealous. You want to wake up,
Elise--things have changed. A woman who sticks at home and meets her
darling hubby at night with half-a-dozen squalling kids and a pair of
carpet slippers--no thanks! The war has shown that women are going to
have just as much liberty as the men. We've taken it; and I tell you the
men like us all the better for it.'

'You think that because every man you meet kisses you.'

'Elise!'

'Good heavens! Don't they?'

'Well, I never! Anyhow, what if they do? Is there any harm in it?'

Elise smiled and shook her head. 'None, my dear Marian,' she said.
'There is no possible harm in it. There's no harm in anything now. The
old idea that a wom