ly
I can play the blithering idiot without much trouble.'

CHAPTER XI.

THE RENDING OF THE VEIL.

I.

The house-party at Roselawn had hurriedly broken up, and only Selwyn
remained. In view of the scandal about Dick Durwent, although it was not
spoken of by any one, he felt that it would have been more delicate to
leave with the other guests. But it seemed as if the Durwents dreaded to
be alone. His presence gave an impersonal shield behind which they could
seek shelter from each other, and they urged him so earnestly to remain
that it would have been ungracious to refuse.

It was the evening of August 4th, and the family circle, reduced to four,
had just finished dinner. There had been only one topic of
conversation--there could be but one. Britain had given Germany until
midnight (Central European time) to guarantee withdrawal from Belgium.

After dinner the family adjourned for coffee to the living-room, and, as
was his custom, Lord Durwent proffered his guest a cigar.

'No, thanks,' said Selwyn. 'If you will excuse me, I think I will do
without a smoke just now.--Lady Durwent, do you mind if I go to my room
for half-an-hour? There are one or two matters I must attend to.'

Half-way up the stairs he changed his mind, and went out on the lawn
instead. Darkness was setting in with swiftly gathering shadows, and he
found the cool evening air a slight solace to a brow that was weary with
conflicting thoughts.

America had not acted. There towards the west his great country lay
wrapped in ocean's aloofness. The pointed doubts of the ex-army captain
had been confirmed--America had stood aside. Well, why shouldn't she!
It was all very well, he argued, for Britain to pose as a protector of
Belgium, but she could not afford to do otherwise. It was simply
European politics all over again, and the very existence of America
depended on her complete isolation from the Old World.

Yet Germany had sworn to observe Belgium's neutrality, and at that very
moment her guns were battering the little nation to bits. Was that just
a European affair, or did it amount to a world issue?

If only Roosevelt were in power! . . . Who was this man Wilson, anyway?
Could anything good come out of Princeton? . . . In spite of himself,
Selwyn laughed to find how much of the Harvard tradition remained.

If America had only spoken. If she had at least recorded her protest.
Supposing Germany won. . . .

Supposing---