e. But
hitherto she had been her own, earning her own livelihood. What she gave
of love, of small caresses and intimacies, had been free gifts.

From that time she was his creature. In her creed, which was the creed
of the girls on the hill, one did not receive without giving. She would
pay him back, but all that she had to give was herself.

"You'll come to see me, too. Won't you?"

The tingling was very noticeable now. He felt warm, and young, and very,
very strong.

"Of course I'll come to see you," he said, recklessly. "You take a
little time off--you've worked hard--and we'll play round together."

She bent down, unexpectedly, and put her bruised cheek against his hand,
as it lay on the table.

"I love you dreadfully," she whispered.

CHAPTER XXX

February and March were peaceful months, on the surface. Washington was
taking stock quietly of national resources and watching for Germany's
next move. The winter impasse in Europe gave way to the first fighting
of spring, raids and sorties mostly, since the ground was still too
heavy for the advancement of artillery. On the high seas the reign of
terror was in full swing, and little tragic echoes of the world drama
began again to come by cable across the Atlantic. Some of Graham's
friends, like poor Chris, found the end of the path of glory. The tall
young Canadian Highlander died before Peronne in March. Denis Nolan's
nephew was killed in the Irish Fusileers.

One day Clayton came home to find a white-faced Buckham taking his
overcoat in the hall, and to learn that he had lost a young brother.

Clayton was uncomfortable at dinner that night. He wondered what
Buckham thought of them, sitting there around the opulent table, in that
luxurious room. Did he resent it? After dinner he asked him if he cared
to take a few days off, but the old butler shook his head.

"I'm glad to have my work to keep me busy, sir," he said. "And anyhow,
in England, it's considered best to go on, quite as though nothing had
happened. It's better for the troops, sir."

There was a new softness and tolerance in Clayton that early spring. He
had mellowed, somehow, a mellowing that had nothing to do with his new
prosperity. In past times he had wondered how he would stand financial
success if it ever came. He had felt fairly sure he could stand the
other thing. But success--Now he found that it only increased his sense
of responsibility. He was, outside of the war situation, as