erving women.
This Lily Cardew would wear frivolous ball-gowns, such things as he saw
in the shop windows, considered money only as a thing of exchange, and
had traveled all over Europe a number of times.

He took his station against the park railings and reflected that it was
a good thing he had come, after all. Because it was the first Lily whom
he loved, and she was gone, with the camp and the rest, including war.
What had he in common with those lighted windows, with their heavy laces
and draperies?

"Nothing at all, old man," he said cheerfully to the dog, "nothing at
all."

But although the ache was gone when he turned homeward, the dog still at
his heels, he felt strangely lonely without it. He considered that very
definitely he had put love out of his life. Hereafter he would travel
the trail alone. Or accompanied only by History, Politics, Economics,
and various divines on Sunday evenings.

CHAPTER VI

"Well, grandfather," said Lily Cardew, "the last of the Cardews is home
from the wars."

"So I presume," observed old Anthony. "Owing, however, to your mother's
determination to shroud this room in impenetrable gloom, I can only
presume. I cannot see you."

His tone was less unpleasant than his words, however. He was in one of
the rare moods of what passed with him for geniality. For one thing, he
had won at the club that afternoon, where every day from four to six he
played bridge with his own little group, reactionaries like himself,
men who viewed the difficulties of the younger employers of labor with
amused contempt. For another, he and Howard had had a difference of
opinion, and he had, for a wonder, made Howard angry.

"Well, Lily," he inquired, "how does it seem to be at home?"

Lily eyed him almost warily. He was sometimes most dangerous in these
moods.

"I'm not sure, grandfather."

"Not sure about what?"

"Well, I am glad to see everybody, of course. But what am I to do with
myself?"

"Tut." He had an air of benignantly forgiving her. "You'll find plenty.
What did you do before you went away?"

"That was different, grandfather."

"I'm blessed," said old Anthony, truculently, "if I understand what
has come over this country, anyhow. What is different? We've had a war.
We've had other wars, and we didn't think it necessary to change the
Constitution after them. But everything that was right before this
war is wrong after it. Lot of young idiots coming back and refusing to
sett