this young man who
was beginning to recur in her life and conversation. They had attained
the Christian name milestone without passing it; and she seemed to have
brought him as a challenge. Whenever Eric flagged in attention, Agnes
brought Benyon up like an army of reserve; whenever Benyon fancied that
he had won a position, she rounded on her own reinforcements and
admitted Eric to a private intimacy of conversation about Jack. It was a
new part for her to play, but no woman seemed able to resist the
intoxication of having two men interested in her at the same time. If
only she knew that his interest had died more than a year ago, on the
night when Barbara sat in that room, on that sofa. . . . Perhaps she did
know. He caught her looking at him with an expression which changed
almost before their eyes met. Was it desperation, defiance, an
indifferent resolve to give him one last chance--or his own
hypercritical fancy?

They were still talking when Barbara was announced.

"Gracious! Is it _eight_?" Agnes cried, looking at her watch. "I thought
it was only seven. We must fly. Dick's taking me to a _revue_."

"Won't you wait for a cocktail?" Eric asked. "By the way, I don't think
you know Lady Barbara Neave. Miss Waring, Babs. Mr. Benyon."

The two girls shook hands, and Agnes began searching for her gloves and
purse, hurriedly declining Eric's invitation.

"I used to know your brother quite well before the war," said Barbara.
"I was so thankful to hear your good news."

Agnes looked up with a quick smile.

"We never _quite_ lost hope," she said.

"Eric told me that you and your people had been out to see him in
Switzerland. How did you find him?"

The smile died away in wistfulness.

"Well, he's alive, and that's the great thing," Agnes answered. "The
doctors out there don't seem to think that he'll ever be able to do much
work with his head again; he'll probably have to give up the bar and
live out of doors. You can understand that, when a man's just begun to
get a practice together----"

"But is that quite certain?" Barbara interrupted.

"N-no. But it seems probable. There's a report that some of the bad
cases are going to be sent home. Then we shall see."

Eric watched the faces of the two girls. Barbara's expressed nothing
more than the conventional sympathy of one stranger hearing of another's
misfortune; a few months earlier Agnes had not known that Jack and
Barbara were even acquainted.

"How soon