he parts men play unfolds itself a passing thought
comes._

_From the standpoint of fairness, economics, and efficiency,
conscription should have been Britain's first move. But nations, like
individuals, have great moments that reveal the inner character and
leave beacons blazing on the hills of history._

_In a war in which every nation was the loser, Britain can at least
reclaim from the wreckage the memory of that glorious hour when the
Angelus of patriotism rang over the Empire, and men of every creed,
pursuit, and condition dropped their tasks and sank themselves in the
great consecration of service._

_What is the paltry glory of a bloody victory or the passing sting of a
defeat?_

_War is base, senseless, and degrading--that was one truth that Selwyn
did recognise; but what he failed to see was that in the midst of all
the foulness there lay some glorious gems. When battles are forgotten
and war is remembered as a hideous anachronism of the past, our
children and their children will bow in reverence to that stone set
high in Britain's diadem_--THEY SERVED.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FEMININE TOUCH.

I.

In a small South Kensington flat a young woman was seated before a
mirror, adding to her beauty with those artifices which are supposed to
lure the male to helpless capitulation. Two candles gave a shadowy,
mysterious charm to the reflection--a quality somewhat lacking in the
original--and it was impossible for its owner to look on the picture of
pensive eyelashes, radiant eyes, and warm cheeks without a murmur of
admiration. She smiled once to estimate the exact amount of teeth that
should be shown; she leaned forward and looked yearningly, soulfully,
into the brown eyes in the glass. With a sigh of satisfaction she lit a
cigarette from one of the candles, and leaning back, watched the smoke
passing across the face of the reflection.

'Hello, Elise!' said the beauty casually, as the door opened and Elise
Durwent entered, dressed in the uniform of an ambulance-driver.

'You'll find the room standing on its head, but chuck those things
anywhere.'

'Going out again?' asked the new-comer, stepping over several feminine
garments that had been thrown on the floor.

'Just a dance up the street--in Jimmy Goodall's studio. Listen, old
thing; do put on some water. I'm croaking for a cup of tea.'

Without any comment, Elise went into the adjoining room, used as a
kitchen, while the voluptuary dabbed