rite and try to persuade him not to be a fool
either, I think. Not that it's any good. And then--wait and see." She
walked to the floor, "Of course, this is just between us two, isn't it,
dear?" she said, playing with the handle.

"Of course," said her mother. "But do be sensible, dear, and don't wait
too long. It is much better not to play with these things--much better.
And do tell me how things go, darling, won't you?"

"Oh yes," said Hilda slowly, "Oh yes I'll tell you.... Good-night."

She passed out and closed the door gently "I wonder why I can't cry
to-night?" she asked herself as she went to her room, and quite honestly
she did not know.

Across the water Peter's affairs were speeding up. If Hilda could have
seen him that night she would probably have wept without difficulty, but
for a much more superficial reason than the reason why she could not weep
in London. And it came about in this way.

On the morning after the dinner Peter was moody, and declared lie would
not go down to the office, but would take a novel out to the canal. He
was in half a mind to go up and call at the hospital, but something held
him back. Reflection showed him how near he had been to the fatal kiss
the night before, and he did not wish, or, with the morning, he thought
he did not wish, to see Julie so soon again. So he got his novel and went
out to the canal, finding a place where last year's leaves still lay
thick, and one could lie at ease and read. We do these things all our
days, and never learn the lesson.

Half-way through the morning he looked up to see Langton striding along
towards him. He was walking quickly, with the air of one who brings news,
and he delivered his message as soon as they were within earshot of each
other. "Good news, Graham," he called out. "This tomfoolery is over.
They've heard from H.Q. that the whole stunt is postponed, and we've all
to go back to our bases. Isn't it like 'em?" he demanded, as he came up.
"Old Jackson in the office is swearing like blazes. He's had all his maps
made and plans drawn up, etcetera and etcetera, and now they're so much
waste-paper. Jolly fortunate, any road." He sat down and got out a pipe.

Peter shut his book. "I'm glad," he said. "I'm sick of foolin' round
here. Not but what it isn't a decent enough place, but I prefer the
other. There's more doing. When do we go?"

"To-morrow. They're getting our movement orders, yours to Havre, mine to
Rouen. I put in a spoke