s.

Her senses became at last a little blurred. The night seemed to have
spread over half a lifetime--a practically endless vista of suffering.
The soft footfall in the other room made her think of the Sentry at the
Gate, that Sentry with the flaming sword who never slept. It beat with a
pitiless thudding upon her brain....

Later, it grew intermittent, fitful, as if at each turn the Sentry
paused. It always went on again, or so she thought. And she was sure she
was not deeply sleeping, or that haunting cry of an owl had not
penetrated her consciousness so frequently.

Once, oddly, there came to her--perhaps it was a dream--a sound as of
voices whispering together. She turned in her sleep and tried to listen,
but her senses were fogged, benumbed. She could not at the moment drag
herself free from the stupor of weariness that held her. But she was
sure of Peter, quite sure that he would call her if any emergency arose.
And there was no one with whom he could be whispering. So she was sure
it must be a dream. Imperceptibly she sank still deeper into slumber and
forgot....

It was several hours later that Tommy, returned from early parade, flung
himself impetuously down at the table opposite Bernard with a brief,
"Now for it!"

Bernard was reading a letter, and Tommy's eyes fastened upon it as his
were lifted.

"What's that? A letter from Everard?" he asked unceremoniously.

"Yes. He has written to tell me definitely that he has sent in his
resignation--and it has been accepted." Bernard's reply was wholly
courteous, the boy's bluntness notwithstanding. He had a respect for
Tommy.

"Oh, damn!" said Tommy with fervor. "What is he going to do now?"

"He doesn't tell me that." Bernard folded the letter and put it in his
pocket. "What's your news?" he inquired.

Tommy marked the action with somewhat jealous eyes. He had been aware of
Everard's intention for some time. It had been more or less inevitable.
But he wished he had written to him also. There were several things he
would have liked to know.

He looked at Bernard rather blankly, ignoring his question. "What the
devil is he going to do?" he said. "Dropout?"

Bernard's candid eyes met his. "Honestly I don't know," he said.
"Perhaps he is just waiting for orders."

"Will he come back here?" questioned Tommy.

Bernard shook his head. "No. I'm pretty sure he won't. Now tell me your
news!"

"Oh, it's nothing!" said Tommy impatiently. "Nothing, I mean, com