er any such thing," cried Peggy mendaciously. For
Mrs. Conover had committed the indiscretion under assurance of
silence.

"Pardon me," said Nancy, much on her dignity. "Of course I understand
your denying it. It isn't pleasant to be thrown over by any man--but
by a man like Doggie Trevor----"

"You're a spiteful beast, Nancy, and I'll never speak to you again.
You've neither womanly decency nor Christian feeling." And Peggy
marched out of the doctor's house.

As a result of the quarrel, however, she resumed the wearing of the
ring, which she flaunted defiantly with left hand deliberately
ungloved. Hitherto she had not been certain of the continuance of the
engagement. Marmaduke's repudiation was definite enough; but it had
been dictated by his sensitive honour. It lay with her to agree or
decline. She had passed through wearisome days of doubt. A physically
sound fighting man sent about his business as being unfit for war does
not appear a romantic figure in a girl's eyes. She was bitterly
disappointed with Doggie for the sudden withering of her hopes. Had he
fulfilled them she could have loved him wholeheartedly, after the
simple way of women; for her sex, exhilarated by the barbaric
convulsion of the land, clamoured for something heroic, something at
least intensely masculine, in which she could find feminine
exultation. She also felt resentment at his flight from the Savoy, his
silence and practical disappearance. Although not blaming him
unjustly, she failed to realize the spiritual piteousness of his
plight. If the war has done anything in this country, it has saved the
young women of the gentler classes, at any rate, from the abyss of
sordid and cynical materialism. Hesitating to announce the rupture of
the engagement, she allowed it to remain in a state of suspended
animation, and as a symbolic act, ceased to wear the ring. Nancy's
taunts had goaded her to a more heroic attitude. The first person to
whom she showed the newly-ringed hand was her mother.

"The engagement isn't off until I declare it's off. I'm going to play
the game."

"You know best, dear," said the gentle Mrs. Conover. "But it's all
very upsetting."

Then Doggie's letter brought comfort and gladness to the Deanery. It
reassured them as to his fate. It healed the wounded family honour. It
justified Peggy in playing the game.

She took the letter round to Dr. Murdoch's and thrust it into the hand
of an astonished Nancy, with whom since t