shamed, in order of seniority. And no one was allowed to read any
tit-bit out loud for fear of spoiling it for the next man."

Jimmy Charters laughed shortly. "We're just nervy, and sensationalism
helps. It takes one out of one's self for a moment; one forgets."

"And the result is mud flung at someone, some class. No matter whether
it's true; no matter whether it's advisable--it's mud. And it sticks
alike to the just and the unjust; while the world looks on and sneers;
and over the water, the men look on and--die."

George Smallwood was pushing back his chair. "Come on, you fellows.
The Cuthberts will advance from their funk-holes." . . . He led the
way towards the door, and Vane rose.

"Don't pay any attention to what I've been saying, Jimmy." The lawyer
was strolling beside him. "It's liver; I'll take a dose of salts in
the morning."

Jimmy Charters looked at him in silence for a moment.

"I don't know what the particular worry is at the moment, old man," he
said at length, "but don't let go. I'm no sky pilot, but I guess that
somewhere up topsides there's a Big Controller Who understands. . . .
Only at times the pattern is a bit hard to follow. . . ."

Vane laughed hardly. "It's likely to be when the fret-saw slips."

Vane strolled into the ballroom and glanced round, but there was no
sign of Joan; and then he saw that there was another, smaller, room
leading off the principal one where dancing seemed to be in progress
also. He walked towards it, and as he came to the door he stopped
abruptly and his eyes narrowed. In the middle of it Joan was giving an
exhibition dance, supported by a youth in the Flying Corps.

The audience seated round the sides of the room was applauding
vociferously, and urging the dancers on to greater efforts. And then
suddenly Joan broke away from her partner and danced alone, while Vane
leaned against the door with his jaw set in a straight, hard line.
Once his eyes travelled round the faces of the men who were looking on,
and his fists clenched at his sides. There was one elderly man in
particular, with protruding eyes, who roused in him a perfect fury of
rage. . . .

It was a wild, daring exhibition--a mass of swirling draperies and grey
silk stockings. More, it was a wonderful exhibition. She was dancing
with a reckless abandon which gradually turned to sheer devilry, and
she began to circle the room close to the guests who lined the walls.
There were two me