delicate scent and the smoothness of her skin under the sliding hand. He
couldn't touch her without still feeling a sort of pity, a sort of
affection.

But she could take and give caresses while she removed her soul from him
in stubborn rancour.

He couldn't understand that. It amazed him every time. He thought it
horrible. For Nicky's memory was faithful. It still kept the impression
of the Desmond he had married, the tender, frightened, helpless Desmond
he had thought he loved. The Desmond he remembered reminded him
of Veronica.

And Desmond said to herself, "He's impossible. You can't make any
impression on him. I might as well be married to a Moving Fortress."

* * * * *

Months passed. The War Office had not yet given up Nicky's model of the
Moving Fortress. In the first month it was not aware of any letter or of
any parcel or of any Mr. Nicholas Harrison. In the second month
inquiries would be made and the results communicated to Captain Drayton.
In the third month the War Office knew nothing of the matter referred to
by Captain Drayton.

Drayton hadn't a hope. "We can't get it back, Nicky," he said.

"I can," said Nicky, "I can get it back out of my head."

All through the winter of nineteen-eleven and the spring of
nineteen-twelve they worked at it together. They owned that they were
thus getting better results than either of them could have got alone.
There were impossibilities about Nicky's model that a gunner would have
seen at once, and there were faults in Drayton's plans that an engineer
would not have made. Nicky couldn't draw the plans and Drayton couldn't
build the models. They said it was fifty times better fun to work at
it together.

Nicky was happy.

* * * * *

Desmond watched them sombrely. She and Alfred Orde-Jones, the painter,
laughed at them behind their backs. She said "How funny they are! Frank
wouldn't hurt a fly and Nicky wouldn't say 'Bo!' to a goose if he
thought it would frighten the goose, and yet they're only happy when
they're inventing some horrible machine that'll kill thousands of people
who never did them any harm." He said, "That's because they haven't any
imagination."

Nicky got up early and went to bed late to work at the Moving Fortress.
The time between had to be given to the Works. The Company had paid him
fairly well for all his patents in the hope of getting more of his
ideas, and when they foun