ined to have an answer to-night. To-morrow he was off
to the Front. The growing fury of the war, its appalling losses, made it
increasingly doubtful that he should ever see her face again. What her
answer would be he could not surely say. But to-night he would have it
from her. If "yes" there was time to-morrow to be married; if "no" then
the more gladly he would go to the war.

After dinner the Doctor and the Colonel took their way to the study to
smoke and talk over matters connected with military organisation, in
regard to which the Doctor confessed himself to be woefully ignorant.
Jane led Larry into the library, where a bright fire was burning.

"Awfully jolly, this fire. We'll do without the lights," said Larry,
touching the switch and drawing their chairs forward to the fire,
wondering the while how he should get himself to the point of courage
necessary to his purpose. Had it been a few months ago how easy it would
have been. He could see himself with easy camaraderie put his arm about
Jane with never a quiver of voice or shiver of soul, and say to her,
"Jane, you dear, dear thing, won't you marry me?" But at that time
he had neither desire nor purpose. Now by some damnable perversity of
things, when heart and soul were sick with the longing for her, and his
purpose set to have her, he found himself nerveless and shaking like a
silly girl. He pushed his chair back so that, unaware to her, his eyes
could rest upon her face, and planned his approach. He would begin
by speaking of Helen, of her courage, of her great loss, then of her
supreme regret, at which point he would make his plea. But Jane would
give him no help at all. Silent she sat looking into the fire, all
the vivacity and brilliance of the past hour gone, and in its place a
gentle, pensive sadness. The firelight fell on her face, so changed from
what it had been in those pre-war days, now so long ago, yet so familiar
and so dear. To-morrow at this hour he would be far down the line with
his battalion, off for the war. What lay beyond that who could say? If
she should refuse--"God help me then," he groaned aloud, unthinking.

"What is it, Larry?" she said, turning her face quickly toward him.

"I was just thinking, Jane, that to-morrow I--that is--" He paused
abruptly.

"Oh, Larry, I know, I know." Her hands went quickly to her breast. In
her eyes he saw a look of pain so acute, so pitiful, that he forgot all
his plan of approach.

"Jane," he crie