My rooms, of course."

"Frightfully so."

He towered in the low room. Audrey sat down and surveyed him as he stood
by the fire.

"It is nice to have a man about again."

"Do you mean to say you have been living here, without even visitors,
for two months?"

"You'll laugh. Clay, I'm studying!"

"Studying! What?"

"Stenography. Oh, it's not as bad as that. I don't have to earn my
living. I've just got to do something for my soul's sake. I went all
over the ground, and I saw I was just a cumberer of the earth, and then
I thought--"

She hesitated.

"What did you think?"

"If, some time or other, I could release a man to go and fight, it would
be the next best thing to giving myself. Not here, necessarily; I don't
believe we will ever go in. But in England, anywhere."

"You've released Chris."

"He released himself. And he's not fighting. He's driving an ambulance."

He waited, hoping she would go on. He was not curious, but he thought it
might be good for her to talk Chris and the trouble over with some
one. But she sat silent, and suddenly asked him if he cared for tea. He
refused.

"How's Natalie?"

"Very well."

"And the house?"

"Held up by cold weather now. It should be finished by the end of
April."

"Clay," she said, after a moment, "are you going to employ women in the
new munition works?"

"In certain departments, yes."

"I have a girl I want work for. She's not trained, of course."

"None of them are. We have to teach them. I can give you a card to the
employment department if you want it."

"Thanks."

There was a short silence. She sat looking at the fire, and he had a
chance to notice the change in her. She had visualized it herself. Her
long ear-rings were gone, and with them some of the insolence they had
seemed to accentuate. She was not rouged, and he had thought at first,
for that reason, that she looked ill. She was even differently dressed,
in something dark and girlish with a boyish white Eton collar.

"I wonder if you think I'm hiding, Clay," she said, finally.

"Well, what are you doing?" He smiled down at her from the hearth-rug.

"Paying my bills! That's not all the truth, either. I'll tell you, Clay.
I just got sick of it all. When Chris left I had a chance to burn my
bridges and I burned them. The same people, the same talk, the same
food, the same days filled with the same silly things that took all my
time and gave me nothing."

"How long had you been feeli