to keep supplies pouring into England
and France. Well--"

He spread his hands in an expressive gesture. Tommy was that type of
Englishman in which rugged health and some generations of breeding and
education have combined to produce what Europe calls a "gentleman." He
was above middle height, very stoutly and squarely built, ruddy
faced--the sort of man one may safely prophesy will acquire a paunch and
double chin with middle age. But Tommy was young and vigorous yet. He
looked very capable, almost aggressive, as he sat there speaking with
the surety of patriotic conviction.

"We're all in it now," he said simply. "It's no longer our army and navy
against their army and navy and the rest of us looking on from the side
lines. It's our complete material resources and man power against their
complete resources and man power. If _they_ win, the world won't be
worth living in, for the Anglo-Saxon. So we've got to beat them. Every
man's job from now on is going to be either fighting or working. We've
got to have ships. I'm organizing that yard to work top-speed. I'm
trying to set a pace. Watch us on the North Shore. The man in the
trenches won't say we didn't back him up."

It sounded well. To Thompson it gave a feeling of dissatisfaction which
was nowise lessened by the momentary gleam in Sophie's eyes as they
rested briefly on Tommy and passed casually to him--and beyond.

He was growing slowly to understand that the war had somehow--in a
fashion beyond his comprehension--bitten deep into Sophie Carr's soul.
She thought about it, if she seldom talked. What was perhaps more vital,
she _felt_ about it with an intensity Thompson could not fathom, because
he had not experienced such feeling himself. He only divined this.
Sophie never paraded either her thoughts or her feelings. And divining
this uneasily he foresaw a shortening of his stature in her eyes by
comparison with Tommy Ashe--who had become a doer, a creator in the
common need, while _he_ remained a gleaner in the field of
self-interest. Thompson rather resented that imputation. Privately he
considered Tommy's speech a trifle grandiloquent. He began to think he
had underestimated Tommy, in more ways than one.

Nor did he fail to wonder at the dry smile that hovered about Sam Carr's
lips until that worthy old gentleman put his hand over his mouth to hide
it, while his shrewd old eyes twinkled with inner amusement. There was
something more than amusement, too. If W