not_ to do it. We shall be of
no use if we let our minds go. We must try to force ourselves into a
sort of deafness and blindness in certain directions. I am trying--with
all my might."

"I know I must," Robin answered not too steadily. "I must--more than
most people. I'm not brave and strong. I'm weak and cowardly--cowardly."
Her breath caught itself and she went on quickly, "Work helps more than
anything else. I want to _work_ all the time. Please may I begin the
letters now?"

She was bending over her desk when Lord Coombe came in earlier than was
his custom. The perfection of his dress, his smooth creaselessness and
quiet harmony of color and line seemed actually to add to the aged look
of his face. His fine rigidity was worn and sallowed. After his greeting
phrases he stood for a space quite silent while the Duchess watched him
as if waiting.

"He has gone?" she said presently. She spoke in quite a low voice, but
it reached Robin's desk.

"Yes. At dawn. The suddenness and secrecy of these goings add to the
poignancy of them. I saw him but he did not see me. I found out the hour
and made an effort. He is not my boy, but I wanted to _look_ at him. It
was perhaps for the last time. Good God! What a crime!"

He spoke low himself and rather quickly and with a new tone in his
voice--as if he had been wrenched and was in pain.

"I am not in a heroic mood. I was only sick and furious when I watched
them go by. They were a handsome, clean-built lot. But he stood out--the
finest among them. His mere beauty and strength brought hideous
thoughts into one's mind--thoughts of German deviltries born of hell."

Robin was looking at her hand which had stopped writing. She could not
keep it still. She must get up and go to her own rooms. Would her knees
shake under her like that when she tried to stand on her feet? The low
talking went on and she scarcely heard what was said. She and Donal had
always known this was coming; they had known it even the first day they
had talked together in the Garden. The knowledge had been the spectre
always waiting hidden at some turn in the path ahead. That was why they
had been so frightened and desperate and hurried. They had clung
together and shut their eyes and caught at the few hours--the few
heavenly hours. He had said it would come suddenly. But she had not
thought it would be as sudden as this. Last night a soldier had brought
a few wild, passionate blotted lines to her. Yes, they h