odrida of the professions, including the one which is the oldest in
the world, paid homage and tribute and yelled sympathy to those few
Frenchmen among them whose passionate love of country found almost
hysterical vent at the sound of the hymn which had stirred all France
to a height of bravery and sacrifice never before reached in the
history of nations.

There were one or two hisses and several scoffing laughs, but these
were instantly drowned by vigorous hand-clapping. The next moment the
room resumed its normal appearance.

When Palgrave, who had been surprised to find himself on his feet, sat
down again, he saw that Joan's lips were trembling and that there were
tears in her eyes. He gave a little laugh, but before he could say any
thing, her hand was on his arm. "No, don't," she said. "Let it go
without a single word. It was too good for sarcasm."

"Oddly enough, I had no sarcasm ready," replied Palgrave. "When our
time comes, I wonder whether we shall have an eightieth part of that
enthusiasm for our little old tune. What do you think?"

"Our time? What time?"

"The time when we have to get into this melee or become the pariah dog
among countries. I don't profess to any knowledge of international
affairs, but any fool can see that our sham neutrality will be the most
costly piece of political blundering ever perpetrated in history. Here
we are in 1915. The war's nine months old. For every day we stand aside
we shall eventually pay a year's bill."

"That's all too deep for me," said Joan. "And anyway, I shan't be asked
to pay anything. What shall we do now?"

"What would you like to do? Go on to the Ritz and dance?" He had a
sudden desire to hold this girl in his arms.

"Why not? I'm on the verge of getting fed up with this place. Let's
give civilization a turn."

"I think so." He beckoned to his waiter. "The check," he said. "Sharp's
the word, please."

The Crystal Room was not content with one band. Even musicians must
sometimes pause for breath, and anything like a break in the jangle and
noise might bring depression to the diners who had crowded in to dance.
As soon, therefore, as the left band was exhausted, the one on the
right sprang in with renewed and feverish energy. Whatever melody there
might have been in the incessant ragtime and fox trots was lost beneath
the bang and clang of drum and cymbals, to which had been added other
more ingenious ear tortures in the shape of rattles and whistles.