preparations
for future possibilities in train before other women had quite begun to
believe in their existence. Lady Lothwell had at first laughed quite
gaily at certain long lists she found her mother occupied with--though
this, it is true, was in early days.

But Robin, even while whirled by the maelstrom, could not cease thinking
certain vague remote thoughts. The splashing of fountains among flowers,
and the sound of music and dancing were far away--but there was an echo
to which she listened unconsciously as Donal Muir did. Something she
gave no name to. But as the, as yet unheard, guns sent forth vibrations
which reached far, there rose before her pictures of columns of marching
men--hundreds, thousands, young, erect, steady and with clear
eyes--marching on and on--to what--to what? Would _every_ man go? Would
there not be some who, for reasons, might not be obliged--or able--or
ready--until perhaps the, as yet hoped for, sudden end of the awful
thing had come? Surely there would be many who would be too young--or
whose youth could not be spared because it stood for some power the
nation needed in its future.

She had taken out and opened the lacquered box while thinking these
things. She was thinking them as she looked at the key in her hand.

"It is not quiet anywhere now," she said to herself. "But there will be
some corner under a tree in the Gardens where it will _seem_ quiet if
one sits quite still there. I will go and try."

There were very few nursemaids with their charges in the place when she
reached it about an hour later.

The military element filling the streets engendered a spirit of caution
with regard to nursemaids in the minds of their employers. Even those
who were not young and good-looking were somewhat shepherded. The two or
three quite elderly ones in the Gardens cast serious glances at the girl
who walked past them to a curve in the path where large lilac bushes and
rhododendrons made a sort of nook for a seat under a tree.

They could not see her when she sat down and laid her book beside her on
the bench. She did not even open it, but sat and looked at the greenery
of the shrubs before her. She was very still, and she looked as if she
saw more than mere leaves and branches.

After a few minutes she got up slowly and went to a tall bush of lilac.
She plucked several leaves and carried them back to her bench, somewhat
as if she were a girl moving in a dream. Then, with a tiny shadow