o sink more ships. Do you get those words of one syllable?"

"No," said Abbie. Ideas of one syllable are as hard to grasp as words
of many. "I don't know what you're drivin' at a tall."

"Poor Abbie!" sighed Mamise. "Dream on, if you want to. But I'm going
to tell Mr. Davidge to keep a watch on Jake. I'm going to warn him
that Jake is probably mixed up in the sinking of that beautiful ship
he named after his mother."

Even Abbie could not miss the frightful meaning of this. She was one
of those who never trust experience, one of those who think that, in
spite of all the horrible facts of the past, horrible things are
impossible in the future. Higher types of the same mind had gone about
saying that war was impossible, later insisting that it was impossible
that the United States should be dragged into this war because it was
so horrible, and next averring that since this war was so horrible
there could never be another.

Even Abbie could imagine what would happen if Mamise denounced Jake as
an accomplice in the sinking of the Clara. It would be so terrible
that it must be impossible. The proof that Jake was innocent was the
thought of what would happen to him and to her and their children if
he were found guilty. She summed it all up in a phrase:

"Mamise, you're plumb crazy!"

"I hope so, but I'm also crazy enough to put Mr. Davidge on his
guard."

"And have him fire Jake, or get him arrested?"

"Perhaps."

"Ain't you got any sense of decency or dooty a tall?"

"I'm trying to find out."

"Well, I always knew a woman who'd smoke cigarettes would do
anything."

"I'll do this."

"O' course you won't; but if you did, I'd--why, I'd--why, I just don't
know what I'd do."

"Would you give up Jake?"

"Give up Jake? Divorce him or something?"

Mamise nodded.

Abbie gasped: "Why, you're positively immor'l! Posi-_tive_-ly! He's
the father of my childern! I'll stick to Jake through thick and
thin."

"Through treason and murder, too? You were an American, you know,
before you ever met him. And I was an American before he became my
brother-in-law. And I don't intend to let him make me a partner in his
guilt just because he made you give him a few children."

"I won't listen to another word," cried Abbie. "You're too indecent to
talk to." And she slammed the door after her.

"Poor Abbie!" said Mamise, and closed her book, rubbed the light out
of her cigarette, and went to bed.

But not to sleep. Abbie had